Half Widow
My eyes, vacant,
gaze
into the deep space
wondering
how did you become a brute?
I ask about my beloved,
caged in far off places
or buried in no man’s land.
Does my pain make you
conquerer of the realms?
Or numb like my heart?
The blots on my face,
the holes in my Pheran,
are but relics of my freedom before
you smashed my existence
into an unknown abyss.
I am the half-widow
bereft of the funeral of my living soul.
I shall meet my sweetheart,
not in this realm, not hereafter.
How do I hold the sun
burning to light the galaxies,
in my depleted gaze?
We shall talk
I waited
For a call
You did promise
From the land of forgotten
Not that you didn’t try
Among the serpentine queues
Scared faces
Longing to hear
Wishing not to fear
Between the dreaded shadows
Not eavesdropping
How you think and feel
Hardly any mystery
You cannot be trusted
It is not safe
Aren’t they protecting you
From your thoughts
The teary eyes
Piercing the empty skies
Mothers so patient
Breathing quiet
Heavy chests
Standing hours
To steal a few seconds
We shall wait
Till there is no siege
Cages fall
Locks break
Be patient
We shall talk
Dr Mudasir Firdosi is a Kashmiri Psychiatrist, poet and writer.