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An intense live poem by Ayub, exclusively for Different Truths.
It was the secret you told me,
I had faith in it too,
That your heart is a trustee of the delicate mystery,
You told that He always
Breathes in us,
Sees to us,
Listens to us,
And He is the bystander,
He is the Witness of our each vow of loyalty,
Each affair, each word, each touch
And Witness of each moment of the sight,
Now closing up then going far away,
With the tongue of silence trespassing
Extremes of heart and soul,
Weeping while clinging to each other,
Panting, sighing to each pore of the body,
He knows each and every wild act of ours.
But now I have known that God
Whose eyes being a witness,
Bound us in a sacred relation,
Has been on leave for the last several years,
And dwells in times of some other cosmos.
Your personal God went telling you
“I wouldn’t be here for some days,
I would be on leave for some years
In times of some other cosmos;
In my absence, you won’t be accountable,
You may tear to pieces anyone’s heart,
And make it desolate if you like,
No one will blame you for your savagery.”
So, in two-year absence
Of your personal God, you have wrung
My heart and soul sieved them through
The rusty callous strainer.
Now tell me,
What you will do with the contents.
What shall I do?
I, who have got myself stuck,
In between the wet desert of the hustle bustle of the world,
And your expediency full of love,
Sunk in the mashes of the desert,
How shall I live?
Into the grave of my empty pores,
In which the sand of my wet dreams
Is sifting, grain by grain.
Just tell me!
Carrying this skeleton
From where to where,
And to which moments
I should go
To beg for my futile breaths,
Shards of your broken images.
Just tell me!
When your personal God will return from the long leave,
How in restless graves of my pores
He will repose,
For in each grave has grown the yellow
Moss of my sullied and slained dreams.
O! My beloved,
Just tell me what I shall tell to God
Who will return after long leave
All exhausted, tired and fatigued.
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