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In Transit
A Ghazal for Agha Shahid Ali
I hold on to your words like a child lost in transit,
The gestures of bodies invisibly marked “lost in transit”.

You claim the land with the lens of your lines,
Give no name to it, when memories defrost in transit.

Echoes fill the frozen lake in the valley. The snowman
Moves up the mountains, like a ghost in transit.

In the big, bad wolf’s tale retold, you speak of perfect
Timing: every secret agent has to pay the cost in transit.

The vigil has turned into a wake. Are birds killed
In civil wars martyrs? Why should they roast in transit?

A new script unwinds backstage as an actor breaks out of
His own last words: hell disowns this Faust in transit.

You moved houses but we still track you down to your
Dwellings. It is to home that we travellers toast in transit.

We are stranded. Bring us news, Shahid. Please stand guard
As we cross these war zones’ wild outposts in transit.