WHITE NOISE

White noise

doesn’t help me block out echoes of your lies

the color of your laughter

(On this day 6 years ago)

purr poetre

Yikes. You walk all the way from the mountains to the village to the city to your own bed where he says he fucks you hard
and then a therapist and a coffee café and another guy and some French and some toast and a shard

And then you come back to the room to the bed your parents got for you and a can of milk, a laptop brand new and you say
You cannot write?

What else do you want! — a life?

Tum se piyaar

تم سے پیار کیا تو پیار بہت
اور دل ٹوٹا تو چکنا چور

تم پاس رہے تو واری واری
اور دور گئے تو بنا ناسور

تم پہلی محبت ہو میری
پر قسمت کو ہے کیا منظور؟

کون کہتا ہے دنیا فانی ہے
محبت تو ہے خدائی دستور

Tum se piyar kiya tou piyar bohat
Aur dil toota tou chakna choor

Tum paas rahay tou waari waari
Aur door gaye tou bana naasoor

Tum pehli muhabbat ho meri
Par qismat ko hai kia manzoor?

Kon kehta hai sab faani hai
Muhabbat tou hai Khudai dastoor

یہ کیسی خبر

جب کھڑکی کے اس پار چیخنے کی آواز آئی

تو لپک کر پہنچنے والا پہلا شخص

تجسس کے مارے آیا تھا

بروقت امداد کسے ملتی ہے

مدد کے لیے روتے ہیں تو خبر بنتی ہے

سب کو تسکین ملتی ہے

وہ جو خبر ملنے پر آتے ہیں

اپنا حق جتلاتے ہیں

ہم ہی تو اسے جانتے تھے

مرحوم بڑا بے صبرا تھا

م ع ۱۴ اکتوبر ۲۰۲۰

Hum

All of the songs
I sing
All of the words
I think
All of the art
I do
It was
Always
For you.

All of the time
that’s gone
All of the dreams
You took away
All of the flaws now
What do I do
It was
Always
For you

It was
Always
For you

☸

A part of my name was always in your name and this amazes me.

Heart of Gold

Heart of Gold – Acrylic on canvas. Maria I.

All black.
But how these streaks enfold.
There is light!
It’s a heart of gold.

God, is this where you meet?

Creation from Chaos

Bring me to my paint brushes when I am away from home.
Remind me of this freedom when I am crying of suffocation.

If my hand is pulling for a noose and my eyes are blinded by rushing streams
Gently hold me by my shoulders, guide me to art and silence,

And give me enough time.

I will hopefully carve out a creation out of chaos.

(I mean, actually inshaa Allah and aameen to that. It’s…like…an actual thing)

Haar

Meray kuch khuwab hain
Unhe tum khareed lo
Umeedon ke jitnay rang
Zang pakaranay lagay hain
Un ka mai tou kia karun?
Tum samait lo
Beshak khali booseeda bastay me band kar ke chor do
Kaheen phaink do
Magar inhe zinda dargor hotay mai dekh nahi sakti
Ye zimmedari mai sahaar nahi sakti
So isay tum apnay sar le lo
Ye aik qatal meray naam pe
Meray maazi, meray haal, meray mustaqil ke sitaron jugnuon titliyun ka tum kardo
Aur akhir me
Apnay se jurri har yaad
Har baat
Is zaat ka har raaz
Dua, aansoo, hansi, marzi
Jala kar khaak kardo
Meri haar amar kardo

No edits.

It still means a cold hard blow
cold hard blow on the heart
like someone hammers it into pieces
while looking sideways
you’re so hurt yourself, you say
it was never intentional to reach
here. this
now
is our collective mistake. or something from the universe
if only you could stop right now
if only you could go back in time
one last time back in time one last —
you’d do it again.

You would.

Saying hi

this is a haiku
but it is not a haiku
what even, woman

the way to you

if difficulty is danger
and so is insecurity
anxiety-ish, that deep twist in the stomach,
if danger means this spikey knife
set in between (standing upright)
to pierce through my self-esteem,
self-confidence, self-whatmore
then the way to you is laced with danger
and I cannot miss the signs anymore

Love grows here

Between night-black and no star,
Cocooned by a quiet that is only suddenly broken sometimes
By a cricket’s cry.
Love lives here
Even when you don’t.

all that

a g i t a t i o n

This time of the year you want to give up. You are so done. You could pack a bag and scurry off to the hills or something… even though this wasn’t what you wanted. But if you could find peace in any form you’ll want to go after it.

You are happy. You are laughing. You are making others laugh. There are fun sounds and dramatic gestures and such a sacred feeling of gratefulness it scares you.

You can see the mess. You know what it is even when you’re tapping your fingers on the keyboard pretending you can’t find the word you know you know the word, you know it’s called s t r u g g l e and sometimes it’s a name and sometimes, it’s a silly count of all your poems you never had the guts to share. When you end a day and begin another, you pat yourself on the shoulder because you can cut one on the self-help calendar in your mind, now it’s just 37 more days. After that, you will probably come up with another idea.

I wish I could tell you your burden is not your own but everyone’s collective burden is hell so yours is yours alone. Though there’s still some hope because – oh, I don’t know. But there is a heaven as well so there should be.

Keeper

Secrets are gifts. They don’t belong just everywhere. A secret lives where lives Love.

I have my grandmother’s stories within me,
and my mother’s, and yours—
Why do I have yours?

I have someone else’s anger, a tragedy from another place in time
Where I wasn’t, where I’ll never be – except in the future of their past
that is already a memory
Numberless faces read out their stories and not one I could tell not to
Like I could not tell you

“I don’t want your stories!” I scream now when it’s too late—
Waking up from a dream, and sleeping into another
Why do I still find you near?

Spots of No light

Everything is fine. Outwardly. Where out is the edge of earth I’m standing on; inside me is a lava. It’s ready to erupt but wouldn’t—you’d think my body is brave enough to hold it but really, it’s the sight of uncountable blisters already on my skin that quiet it.

Before me lie fields and fields of night.

I can’t make sense of it, but sometimes I run, telling myself it’s still some direction even if I don’t know it. Alas, I find myself back where I started, my struggle wasted on dark space, and my already tired limbs.

all our issues and one

Sometimes,
When I should be elsewhere
Inside Dreams,
I lay awake instead, and
Assemble a questionnaire in my mind:
Everything that I have now yearned too long to ask you, I would;
“This is going to be a very, very honest conversation,” I will say.
It’s our final friendly law.
A sudden surge of happiness like a reflection of seven colors on my sooted heart—
If you call me again I might at least find my name
And as we’re talking, I will ask— no harsh feelings, hey!— but why did you think it was okay to do what you did?
How many others have you scarred the same way?
Alas! In the back of my mind the colors shift
A curtain closes
Rubbing the drama away in one swift move:
How will I know if you won’t still be lying?

♫heart·strings

Another cobalt blue sky lit by innumerable stars. Tiny, bright pockets of fairy-light. We sit just by the river, taking in the fresh scent of dewy grass, soft wind, and the feeling of our togetherness.

My feet are crossed and my heart is full. We don’t have enemies anymore – neither Time, nor the World. We are doing fine.

I stand up and step into the blue river. Your hand is in the water and you are splashing at it gently. As my feet touch its cool, smooth surface, we hear a strange music start. It’s coming from a distance but it feels so very near, so very soothing. Or was it from our hearts? I imagine stars coming closer – those tiny pockets of fairy-light falling to dance with me, and I look at you. You are smiling too.

—

Similar posts: Skin, Wings, Sea calls, Soulburst.

☆

I said: “I love you”
And heard its echo
In every part of my being.

You were nowhere else
But in me.

☆

Inspired by the weekly photo prompt: security.

I·dyl·lic

Amidst sky hues,
Setting suns, misty blues,
Silences lapsing into eternities, infinities;
Our poetry calls us to listen.
◊

Took this on my return route from Nathiagali, Pakistan. Got inspired by the daily post’s challenge to share it because this trip meant all sorts of magic to me.

(This week’s horizon makes me want to show it again. I feel a connection with this one.)

tsk

they are all growing old
old and apart.
none of them truly excited
about anything at all
and as they stand close,
shoulders touching,
you hear them whisper,
dewy-eyed:
happiness is not a goal.
you nod
and stifle a giggle.
they’re all the same!
all, winners in this game

An Apology

Here is an apology
For each tear, every cut on your heart
And everything you feel you deserve one for
But never got.

Here is that apology which couldn’t reach you before
For your lost years, or lost months, or lost weeks
Or just lost days-in-between.
For the sound your bones make when you pull up from a non-sleep
To join another meaningless chase.
For the voice that no more chokes
On hearing, or saying, the word sorry
For your uncontrollable sobs of yesteryear
The memories of which you’ve swept under your chest
To be crushed by the burden of this same meaningless chase we know nothing about.

I cannot mend what is lost
I cannot even change what got wasted but I can hope
And I do. I hope for peace to find you and provide you with just as more strength as you need
Just more strength, as always,
Until you become your hero.
Again. Only this time more truly.

With love.