Fall of the Canopy


So let me create you into a great dark forest,
And transform myself into a poisonous tree.
I want to tear this vast Canopy into pieces,
Use my thorns to climb the others to reach,
Slowly but surely I will destroy all of the filth,
And let the glowing moonlight shine past it.
So let me create you into a great dark forest,
And transform myself into a poisonous tree.
O Canopy, you will never recognise my leaves,
You will be distracted as I perform this play,
Dealing the finishing blow under your earth,
Giggling as your neck separates you into dust.
So let me create you into a great dark forest,
And transform myself into a poisonous tree.
All of you who still believe in my abilities,
Walk steps towards me to create the forest,
Support me as I reach this oppressive Canopy,
And let our vines pierce through it incessantly.
So let me create you into a great dark forest,
And transform myself into a poisonous tree.
Wednesday, 19thof December 2012
                                                                                                                                     

Visiting Yaddo


The door has two buttons for bells,
I had to click both to note my presence,
And I wait; still waiting but to no avail.
Next day, similar time I ring the bells,
Lights on, footsteps nearby, door opens,
And I enter yaddo’s house.
I saw her sitting on the sofa facing Makkah,
Moving her fragile scarred ancient body,
Yet, still wise and grateful to her Creator,
Prostrating to Him, thanking patiently,
And I am standing as if a bodyguard,
On duty, waiting for further orders,
Then she finishes saying peace to the Angels,
She scans the living room,
Eyes slowly grabbing my figure,
Her smiles start to invade her face,
I kiss her hands and forehead, and cheeks, too,
She grabs my chin: “oh my cute son”,
Still a three-year-old to her gorgeous eyes!
And a three-year-old I want to be,
In her arms, once again, spoiled and tickled,
I ask about her health and her arms,
With all the pain she is having
she replies:
“Thanks to Allah”.
Tuesday, 11thof December 2012

A


She starts to tremble. She fits.
Her eyes, mouth, neck change,
Her voice, screaming, painful,
“Mom’s here! Don’t worry!
I’m right here, look at me!”
Terrified, tears pouring down,
One, two, three, four seconds
Five, six, seven, eight minutes
She comes back… blank looks!
Surprised eyes wonder around,
Discovers her mother’s tears,
Her mouth still closed, silenced.
She looks at the doctor, he smiles,
She looks back at her mother,
She also smiles with hugs and kisses,
Nine, ten, eleven, twelve days
Have passed waiting for surgery,
Tumour recurred, eighth time,
Each time followed up in theatres,
Now, she is deep in her sleep,
Her mother awaits the results,
Exhausted, physically and mentally,
No words can escape her dry mouth,
Except her faint near-last breaths,
Praying, praying, and praying.
The surgeon starts. Razor. Marker.
Iodine. Local. Scalpel. Suction.
On. Off. Entering the area of
Previous operation. One mass out.
Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.
And seven. Eighth unreachable.
Done. Suture. Report to parents.
She lives…
… for 24 months.
I learnt it was alright to cry!
Thursday, 6thof December 2012

During Flights


During flights you do not create marbles,
Rather, what you create is “in the process”,
Extraverted or introverted; it is your choice!
You have over 14 hours to use or waste,
Or a bit of both, like a pie: slices, percentages.
The time clicks and you start to become a marble,
As I said: “in the process” as in, we start to talk,
No introductions needed, just explain your actions,
“I just came to stretch my muscles, a bit of movement”
Out the window he looks “only been four hours!”
I know some used those hours and still using them
To just watch movies, one after the other, their choice!
Though, difficult to grab an input except their breath,
Others, with kids, move, move, and still move,
Kids with bodyguards, very important persons!
Those young souls do not need any processing,
They are born as marbles greet with wide smiles,
And what is more interesting are the duo marbles,
Movements synchronised, wordless, eye contacts,
To them I am not a shadow but a gate to the isle.
But the commonest are the cabin crew, never marbles,
Not even “in the process”, plain faces, their choice?
They are like a puppet with a master controlling its limbs,
Yep! During flights you do not create marbles,
What you create is “in the process”, if you want.
Thursday, 6thof December 2012