on hearing the voices of children late at night from our riad deep within the Medinah….
last night, just as I closed the door
to consciousness and stepped into
the cool blue anteroom of sleep, I heard
the voices of small children, rising, falling,
echoing through the house, familiar voices
passing just beyond my comprehension.
are these the voices of children
gone before, or of those still to come –
or are these the sounds of the lost
and harshly punished parts of myself
that are running now, their small
black and white shoes clattering
down the long wooden hallways of time,
rushing to see who’s come to the door,
to see who’s come to reclaim them
after such an unforgivably long time.