Your Casual Cruelty

Somewhere along the way,
We fell into a pattern,
Your casual cruelty
Almost a habit

Trapped in a burnt out Chinar,
My very being singed by the
Corners of paradise,
All I could feel was your
Cold hands around my neck

There were no more shrines,
Where I could tie my rags,
Those little pieces of Mortgaged souls,
Pawned to a unhearing God

At times, your boots walked on my face,
I shuffled and you shot me dead,
Amputating my limbs of all shame
Refusing me even the little dignity of death

In the abandoned corner of earth,
That I once called home
Maggots ate at my flesh,
Cockroaches infested my body,
But even then,
You sought my soul to
Barter at shops of decay

You built orphanages in military camps,
Housing my children in houses
Riddled with bullet holes, their childhood
Held hostage by my bombed out desires
And your indifferent smiles

In between glasses of subsidised
Imported rum, smartly balanced on
Your razor thin grin, you poured
Acid in my eyes, blinding me,
Robbing me of my last respite

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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

Some Other Time

We will be counting days again, till we say hello again— only for us to say goodbye again. We always knew we’d have to say our goodbyes one day. Then why does it hurt so? Even so, when we know it won’t be long before even goodbyes are a luxury. We cling to hopes— that this isn’t the only life we will live. That one day, we will meet again, in some other life, in some other time, where we won’t have to say G oodbye.

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...

Tasenda

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