Skip to main content

Void...

There is a void in me
That I fail to fill in
It’s a small hole, the size of a golf ball
But it’s hard to fill in
I think of you all the time now
Of your blood stained shroud and your covered face
I think of death all the time now
Of your wound and my tears at the end
There is a void in me
That I fail to fill in
You have put the void there,
Old friend
I never knew you when you were alive
I wish I never knew you
At least you would be alive and
We would meet sometime along the
Ganta ghar ,
I would pass you and never think of you again
But you died and killed me with you
There is a void in me
That is hard to fill in

(for Arif ayoub, killed 26 May 2009 by a police tear gas shell)
Labels:

Comments

maliksajad said…
very sad, want to see kashmir a paradise again.
June 2, 2009 at 7:57 AM
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Indigo Halls of Imagined Gods

In the indigo halls of Imagined Gods of Love, Lovers leave half burnt letters of incense and trails of broken hearts - Among ruins of shattered Love knots, she sits alone Weaving a rosary out of Thin air With longing as its thread and Beads made out of tears -- In the Indigo halls of Imagined gods of Love, The walls conspire and whisper Into her ears Telling tales of unfaithful loves And unrequited desires -- The rags of threads once Tied at the Astans of Hamdan, Lie at her feet, as she sits alone Knitting desolation from the whispers To sacrifice at the altars of the imagined Gods of love 
Post a Comment
Read more

Zulaikha’s Lament

Blotted and Stained Like blood on apples, My reputation remains in tatters After these years But what was a woman to do? -- He had the face of An angel His shoulders, A sculptors dream His eyes, spoke a million languages his lips, like daggers driven apart -- I grew outside of Cairo Unloving father and sad mother Sold me for a goat and   A bag of gold To the first merchant who They came across -- My Husband, Kind, Generous man Made me his wife And put me along with Thirteen others -- My Husband, Kind Generous man Kept me happy Visited me twice a month Blessing me with His drunken kisses and Impotent rage -- I was never sad What more could A woman want? Lots of wealth and An impotent husband Sex was a chore The price of being so glad -- Then he came Chained and covered with dust Another man from the Slave traders den He stood at the gate Neither sad nor in jest Even at a distance...
Post a Comment
Read more

Torn Poster

You stare at me From that torn poster Like the protagonist of Some sad Palestinian film Your eyes, a blaze of Rebellion, your still breath Glazing all fear Striping everything away Making me swear The impossibility of my Love for you never Stuck me till it was Too late in the day I keep replaying In my mind, like A broken record set on fire, All scenarios and solution To this quagmire Unrequited love, you once Said was too much To bear, now that I am here I see what you meant You wrote letters of love But they were never addressed To me, The man who got them Set them ablaze even Before he read the tears Gazelles and dogged mirrors All lie broken at the feet Of an imagined world, even as You stare at me From that torn poster --
Post a Comment
Read more