Stationery by Agha Shahid Ali

I have been going through a lot of letters. I said to someone just now: It takes time for me to get back to people. That is the only excuse I have, really, and I hope you don’t think me too terrible.

I want to make it up to you. Send me something, if you can?

Agha Shahid Ali

The moon did not become the sun.
It just fell on the desert
in great sheets, reams
of silver handmade by you.
The night is your cottage industry now,
the day is your brisk emporium.
The world is full of paper.

Write to me.


  1. It’s June already.
    I have never written to you before.
    Today I came across this Shahid Ali poem on your site.
    The world stopped for a second,
    or maybe two.
    Filled to the brim, gratitude was about to race with sloth.
    I read it again.
    And then again.
    I wanted to send it out to the world.
    I wanted to receive it in a shoe-box tied with coarse brown string.
    How late could it be?
    How late am I?
    Will you share something else with me?

    Liked by 1 person

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