Ahmed Radi

Not a single sound could be heard,
People have vanished from the earth.
In the deserted streets,
Not even the buzzing of a bee or the sight of a human entity.

At the threshold of light and darkness
The whole community takes its delicate cakes,
Muslims and not so muslim.

A mystical silence, a blessed moment
For meditation.

The familiar town
Has turned into magical forms
Of eloquent architecture,
A mosaic of dusk, half-lit shops and semi-dark alley ways.

The cacophony of the day has been suspended
To be replaced by
A purified silence
Hygiene for polluted ears
A cure for bad sight,
An ephemeral moment for epiphanies,
Slightly perturbed by the muffled sounds
Of distant spoons, echoes of prayers, and the roar of a taxi left behind.

Postcolonial OV Morocco Literature A. Radi

Last modified: 31 May 2001