The Collective Soul From your eyes doth appear, Hunger of the centuries unsatiated. The soul was wandering the steppes, An elder was buried in the hill’s step. The frequented contour of the path, In the village now dried and devoid. You were holding in clenched fist, Lest not escape like water between. Red color of blood was nourishment. The apple’s red is now not akin, To the setting sun or plumes like, A rising moon and almonds stars studded. This dust will settle one day and if not, Any day but a day of judgment. The old mother’s lap though cozier, The silver on black cover taught patience. I heard the fish of the stream of ablution, Below the azure skies and not knowing. The murkiness is not unlike a storm. When the evil doers are holding pulpit. What opportunism would mean to you. In the night’s plunder I saw your eyes gleam. What cries would be to the ear’s satisfaction. The cold night descended on roof tops. I held the snow in my palm, rubbed on my face, What oath else do you want O motherland! I shall hold in my arms this gorgeousness. I shall gather these pebbles for wishing fortune. Be not the despair of those not knowing, We have lived long winters for happy springs. Sadiqullah Khan Peshawar February 5,2013.
Posted on: Thu, 10 Jul 2014 12:49:50 +0000
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