Life goes on wrapped up in days Amd months and years And then something small, inconsequential Peeps out of a grainy abyss It emerges unshrouded, unexpected And the fragility That is also life, folds up The soft blanket about us And we feel the chill Of new news, the icicles Of probabilities, plausibilities Pierce benumbed flesh The fragility of life Touches us with light fingers, it tries But our hearts beat like the delicate wings Of butterflies at the end of spring We feel, we reel we come undone For a while or longer and then The chill settles into our bones Wistful companion for a season That somehow takes root While summer and autumn flit past in their time Winter settles into our boots In the lines of our palms And behind our eyelids like iodex balm Tearing now and then at flesh and veins Amid the dead quietness it brings Of endings, a resting in the dirges it sings Winter becomes our climate within And we toughen our skins With hope, nostalgia and other things And somehow we survive, we go on Wrapped in hours and days and years Until it happens all over again.
I couldn’t. Everywhere I looked, it was there, looming like a mountain, shivering with the bones and moans of people gone. Rattling its presence constantly. I felt it reach desperate fingers through my veins, slowing my blood to a cold, desolate crawl. Then, roaring through my ears in floods that threatened to rip through the corners of my eyes. My parched eyeballs burned until I couldn’t see.
See me …. Feel me
I couldn’t let myself feel its broken form. Jagged and sharp, it would cut through my flesh everytime I looked at it. No matter how fast I fled, it caught up and gripped me around my chest. So tight, I couldnt breathe. I gasped for air, taking in big choking gulps. And then I ran again. I ran and ran until I couldn’t feel.
Feel me … Hold me
I couldn’t let it engulf my senses, to stir up memories that howled in my head. Its own throbbing soul pitched wretchedly inside its quivering tortured layers. Layers upon layers of purple-grey. Like bruises that just don’t heal. It kept hitting itself bruise upon bruise against the walls of my ribcage until every seam was tattooed with wounding inks. Until it lay prone, ragged and torn. I couldn’t look at it, I couldnt hold it.
Look at me … See me … Feel me … Hold me
Hold me … Feel me … See me … Look at me
I looked at it then, and saw a face there, distorted with pain. So much pain. It was mine. I saw it then, fold up its battered layers and quietly crawl into my heart I felt it then, as it tenderly claimed my body, seeping into every atom of my being I held it at last as it became whole, unbroken, divine. My grief finally belonged to me.
This is for the ladies. Amidst all the funniness abounding in the verse, there is a subtle message of self love and self reliance.
Here’s hoping that we can always read between the literal and figurative noisy lines that may be thrown at us in the name of love. And that our peace of mind and our sense of self worth always supersede other enterprises of the liver (jigar) and the heart!
No offence to my male family, friends and acquaintances - these are truth-telling times!
He said I love you Like I have never loved another I said you’re 48 and you’re still Looking for that perfect other?
Surely you’ve felt something in that realm You have walked down lovers lanes Were you perchance arm in arm With your tonic and your gin? And not a woman whom you’d consider A partner and a friend No, she was always just a trip A means towards an end Each bedecked your evenings out The “I love yous” that left your lips Were whispered as sweet nothings In between your boozy sips And now you tell me that You’re in love with me too Except it’s not your usual form You don’t know what’s happened to you! Maybe your three-month romances Would extend to five with me But the Shallow Hal* in you, pal Is still waiting to count to three And then your extra special Trademark escape artistry Will take center stage It’ll be the same old page From your book of Love for Free
That day he said I love you Like I have never loved before I said dear boy you wouldn’t know true love If it speared you in your gall bladder
…. and why I am undoubtedly the man of your dreams!”
* Shallow Hal: A 2001 Hollywood Rom-Com in which Hal, a shallow man who only dates attractive women, falls in love with Rosemary, after being hypnotized to see the inner beauty of women, not knowing that she is obese.
Mahvash Mohtadullah 