POETRYBYSUDAIS

And you talk about the love that floats in your heart for me,
how your eyes glimmer with a mere hint of my return
yet I wonder is it enough to not waver
through what life has gripped mankind with;

On the days when I’ll be soaking wet
on a dark street in the alleys of the darkest slums of this city,
I wonder,
a blanket, would it find its way from you?

On the nights when my eyes swell with pain,
hovering like they’ve been drugged with the finest of what makes man high,
would you be there to lend them a bit of coolness?

On the days when I walk with gazes of contempt set upon me,
every soul there to tear me,
I wonder,
will the warmth of your arms suffice,
will the hope fluttering through your eyes
let me know it all isn’t going to be okay
but that your spirit is there to rekindle mine
for a lifetime shall I fall amidst this beastly cruel world?

On the days when pieces of silver
are trickling in every pocket but mine’s,
I wonder,
will you be willing to share that warm loaf,
perhaps the last one?

Oh beloved,
let’s sit down,
take my hand for the scars on them need closure;

Fear not for I know that to ask your love
for such a heavy fine is blameworthy on my part
for love was always selfish,
it was always about the heart within that chest finding its solace
and not the solace of the beloved across,
it was always about dying in my arms
but tucked under cozy blankets in a cottage-house facing the lush valleys.

The treasures ask for no key
pathways cherish every being that chooses them
morsels accept the buds of every tongue
the limbs reject no desire found;

You are free?

Like the mirage in the desert,
like the shadow beneath the sun
like the heart yearning for the beloved
you are not but deluded;

For chains are not found entangled to your flesh,
your tongue fears no knife that would restrain it,
the bazaar waits to grant you all to fill,
yet you are not but deluded;

How, you ask.

chains escape your body
yet grip your heart with desires,
the tongue has its say with the blemish of ink,
yet it remains stranded to your ignorance;

As the dervish preaches towards fame of the heavens,
you drift towards glamour of the lowly worlds,
As the hand allows you to buy the hereafter with few,
you wander the bazaars inane giving plenty;

O Captive!
freedom is of morals
emancipation is of thought
slavery
is the want
for
the
created

abandon
abandon
abandon all
abating
the abandonable
be free.

There are days when the darkness
of a thousand nights closes in on me,
weeks when the loneliness
of a hundred ages haunts my essence,
sweeping away my unfettered existence;

I gaze away plainly at the dark day,
illuminating with rays
yet blessing me with not a fraction of its light;

Saddened, I reach for hands knowing they can’t be held,
my eyes reveal bits of my fading soul,
yet my voice betrays me with the urge to appear strong,
so the opportunists don’t come in packs seeking my flesh;

my cheeks bath under streams of tears,
pure, unbridled flowing like the monsoon rain
these lips hide my longing, sewn together,
dry as a battle scarred house ever can be;

speak out
cry clingingly
perhaps,
plant a kiss on her forehead
does any of it yield oranges
the more encompassing fruit?

for winters ago, my heart spelt out for closure
pierced and suffocating, it unbosomed in letters
yet she gifted the best of mockery
wrapped in silk adorned with black roses
like a circus fulfilling the desires of its inhabitants;

centuries later – for my heart perceives time as such,
cries my companion of the separation the beloved brings
my heart grieves for her pain
rest assured my fondness for gifts hasn’t begun
yet nor does my unimportant existence
lend any relief
of what use is such a friend o heedless?

take your bag elsewhere for this caravan is not yours
here’s no space for the unworthy confidante;`

A look at you and this heart finds peace
knowing that your presence shall be close by,
holding my hand, listening to my pounding heartbeat
on the day when every being stands
defying what I stand for;

yet a fear boils on inside the fire of me
in moments when all ships wreck,
hearts splinter to shreds lost in Ganga
what would fate bring in pleasantries?

my horror of wanting to cry out to you in suffocation,
struggling to move as little as a finger,
dying to let out a scream,
thirsting for a drop on my bruised cheeks,
yet resting my forehead beneath the dejected dark night sky at last;

the dread of knowing your love
but not being able to muster up the courage
to call out to your heart in my darkest,
has it befallen – a worthy rumination indeed for our estrangement.