Through the burning years and another poem

Junaid Ashraf

When I was little
I had smelled
the years ahead
of me burning!
I had to walk on the embers
through merciless flames
I would look up
In the sky waiting
That a voice will call the fire
‘’Be cool’’
But it never did!

Fire is perhaps
Meant not just to
Burn but turn
Things into gold
occasionally a tear
from my eyes
would drop
but was little enough
to satiate the flames
behind the veils of
bright dark flames
a stone was hurled
a knife was stabbed
in the back
and a laugh pierced
like a thousand more knives
I would leap
To find a diamond
Within while I had to walk
With a smile glued
At my face
To greet every new flame
Every minute
Every day
Every night
Every year
Till I saw
Those fools who were digging
A grave for me at a place
Where they had sown
Their own death


II: Sparrow’s Beak

David drank

Oceans of knowledge

From water in that

Sparrow’s beak

With the wings

of patience and passion

That did paint my face ashen

I flew through

Deserts and seas

In Khidr’s mind

For years

Each night

Moses would come

And light a candle

In my heart

It would spark

A heartbeat inside

And an earthquake outside

Oppression is a giant tree

That eats all light around

And ‘great men’ stand

On the branches

With pharaoh’s snakes

In their heads

That feed on bits of tiny truth

And children of the lesser God

People don’t see

Those deadly fangs

Or any shining hand

With eyes blinded by pharaoh’s magic

This tree grows by

The stairs of sky

To devour stars

And devour the sun

And its roots are

in the hearts of men!


Junaid Ashraf is a postgraduate student of economics and English literature and an occasional writer for Kashmir based newspapers. His main interests are research, writing poetry and fiction.




Leave a Comment