An inward-looking, poignant verse, by Ayub, for Different Truths.
Someone plucked out my lashes,
And twisted them into a cord,
Then fastened my dreams,
With the same cord,
And imprisoned,
Into the dark cell of my own torso.
Nothing is perceptible in blackness,
But a glow resembling a drop of blood,
In the twinkle of which these dreams
Like grim shadows cling to arcs of my chest,
And wait for to get released.
But I have to do yet a lot of chores,
I don’t have time to see my own eyes sans lashes,
The world spreads all around me,
There are thousands of chores I have to perform,
But I am alone.
I stand stunned
For moments of life are slipping away
From my fist just as sand slips grain by grain,
Hands are becoming empty.
I have to do yet a lot of chores,
Like an old shepherd,
I have to yet lead the flock of this eve
To the farm of yellow morn,
I have to see lest a petty star from my flock
Should vanish into the dust of
Blind journey, stretched to the skies.
I have to do yet a lot of chores,
I have to get released feet of my fellow beings
From the grip of shoes made of mud,
I have to harvest yet the crop of thirst
Sown in throats of the people of bygone seasons,
And clad in the dress of roses
Some brunette beings.
O! My imprisoned dreams,
I have no time to get you released
For I have to do yet a lot of chores.
©Ayub Kahwar
Photos from the Internet
#Poem #Verse #Chores #Dreams #Stars #Eyes #Blood #DifferentTruths