By Novid Shaid

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When Naz and Beena, two drug addicts in love

one day repented, tears flowing like a flood,

that night they both dreamt of soft water flowing,

and heard a voice, far off, it said: “keep coming.”

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When Naz and Beena, well-known at the police station

fought their addictions, enlisting for rehabilitation,

that night they both dreamt of water smooth, with gentle waves,

and picked up that voice again, it said: “this way”.

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When Naz and Beena, the infamous lovers stained in heroin,

struggled against their demons,  attending mosque sessions,

they saw water flowing, strange in colour, seeming not to end,

the voice much closer now, it said: “my friend.”

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When Naz and Beena, the ones the world had written off,

gained in knowledge, shed old skin, felt divine love,

the dreams kept coming, of water, more like milk,

but wholesome, fragrant and soft as the finest silk.

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When Naz and Beena put their past behind them,

had a nikah, and strove to live like momins,

that night they saw the Prophet, by the Hawd, beckoning them

Exclaiming:  “Keep coming this way my dear friends!”