Sonnet 101

Hats? Oh, not for me; I never care
to cover up my head. I like the feel
of openness, of wind in ruffled hair.
I’m always one who’d rather stand than kneel—
you’d never find me walking at the heel
of someone called a shepherd, called a guide.
Everyone said I had a will of steel
and whispered of my cold cast-iron pride.
It’s all gone now, sand fortress in the tide,
the surf came in and washed the beaches clean
and left untrodden silver sands inside
my heart. The rippling hand of wind wrote: Deen.
I kneel now, with covered head, unshod
where turning tides inscribe the Names of God.


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