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

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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...

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 --

Tasenda

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