Skip to main content

‘Tobaiey Takseer

If only I could find my voice
Bereft of echoes and banshee screams
I would become another Hallaj
And shout out your name
From the roof tops
Of the ravaged Baghdad of my
Heart

I would lay no claims
To truth or divinity or even
To you. For no one can claim
You, it was made clear from the
Day Iblis himself rebelled
Against Allah and his creation

No one could ever claim you,
It was made clear
No poets, no philosphers,
No kinghts, no seers, no mendicants
Of cheap arts. They all sought to, but failed.

For who has tried kissing the fire,
And lived to tell the tale.
But rueful though the fate
Has been to the lovers of yore
I will try again, even though I know
My fate

Thirst would show on my lips
Like ages old parchment recording
Banal grocery lists of roman
Camps and heat would ravage my face
Like masks of wooden Norse gods

I will try again, even though I know
All I will shout in the end
Will be

‘Tobaiey Takseer

Comments

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

The Empty Apartment

I draw a deep breath, An empty chair sits in the corner Hastily scribbled notes scattered Around the desk, abandoned Like lilacs in battle filed Wandering eyes rest among the Clumped clothes, a black sequined Scarf pokes pathetically from Among the ruins of our lives, Staring at me, accusing me A half-eaten apple still Sits on the top the fridge, next To the owl totems from the time We visited the dead shaman, You used believe in -- The movers are here, Walking up the narrow stairs Stomping feet leaving shoe marks, You so hate, across the Floor, Our floor The empty boxes laid in front of me Forcing decisions I never wanted To make, what to keep and what To ditch, how much luggage to leave For the insidious new occupants -- Tz
Post a Comment
Read more