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Baku Salat

I miss the call to prayer of my heroes town

The slow, mournful, writhing rings

that reach toward the black-cloaked beauties with

heads bowed over their smiling eyes

 

His voice trills and bows

And I remember the chills it sent up my spine to hear the intensity and sense the powerful devotion

that one man

one voice

one word can bring.

 

Inshallah

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Written by
katelyn-knapp
American
Published
Jun 23, 2013
Lines·Words
10·62
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