POEM BY FEREEHA IDREES ENDORSED BY DR ZAFFAR BUKHARI Mother’s pain on sale…… By FEREEHA IDREES It was a blood stained long path I walk with woodmen but I stumble alone Winds, rain, darkness n pain piercing my bones The beacon of hope has been lost My heart beat numb by the engulfing frost No one knows, though everyone talks I carry this burden on my own I am alive, my child is gone Memories of your last smile Last embrace, last kiss on my forehead…….. Is this all enough to make me go on? Apparently it is! I look around Tiny specs with large shadows All my youthful companions Marching on the chant of justice Eye for eye, hair for hair May I question this? May I dare? The shadows coax me…move on I scream once again—–All hail, all hail! We can all hear a woman’s voice from the other end Sons on sale, sons on sale! What strange awful sound is that? The horrid voice raises fear in the eyes of those beside me I smile, a painful smile, I encourage, I coax My friends, its just a hoax We march again on the chants of justice….. A large sparrow flies by The shadow reaches the corners of my mind At the end of the road… Is it you, I will find? It won’t be you, it will never be you The voice of the woman now comes from within Some parched tongued old hag she is How she raises her ugly voice Her dead gaze as dead as you were I scream again ——- “What if I sold you my dear? Like they do business in smoky rooms? Dollar for dollar, pound for pound Sell whatever we found….. The puffy cheeks, lifeless eyes full of dreams… Your lean body dressed in formal suit And yes the fingers Aren’t these the fingers, that had encircled my hands… ..in a tiny clasp years ago?” The voice stops but not the journey…. Time goes fast, but it has stood still Like rain drops on the grass of your grave…… I can still feel the warmth of your embrace The small hugs, the enchanted laughter Time goes fast moment flies But it could not steal he twinkle in your eyes… Until bright rosy cheeks turned pale Is it now time to put this all on sale? I walk again, the woman’s voice is now louder than ever All around me look at me amazed The voice comes from my lips I cannot believe it myself…is it I? Like a seller in the village with a basket on her head I sell you, your grave, your death bed…. The voices die The march stops….. There is no sunlight in the woods now I bend and my parched lips kiss your lifeless brows…. My voice and the saleswoman’s voice merge Reality hits—-the son’s gone And the mother wants the life to move on……. – Fe’reeha Idrees About these ads Occasionally, some of your visitors may see an advertisement here. Tell me more | Dismiss this message Share this: Press This Twitter Facebook
Posted on: Wed, 11 Sep 2013 06:35:05 +0000
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