Deafening Silence

Here lies more ilk of red and gold silk

Blessed with honey and fresh mare’s milk

A poem I wrote after a long conversation with my Grandmother.

"Iss mohabbat mein doobne ka kya faida?"

Mein kya batasaktahun Begum Sajida?!

Fully entranced, my spirit rushes to meet

Love’s welcome order, her voice is so sweet

I often talk to the Moon about you

Consulting the Lord, an elder or two

More than just a hint or a few clues

They tend to know a bit more than I do’s

“Bashir let the tears of sorrow flow and then roll

Such sad reflections fill up a conscious soul

Why do you fall for hearts that could care less

If my grandson’s body was chopped in carpets rolled”

Why did I ever seek to ever love anyone so bold

Those that I’d give and give up anything for a hundred fold

End up being the same ones that turn towards me so cold

But

By the bounty hand that distributes but never lends

By the ancient clock hands that persistently bend

By the warrior hand that cuts and bravely defends

By shaman hands that heal and beautifully mend

Gardens of purple smoke and lavender fragrance

Hotbox my hearts rooms with your remembrance

Perhaps I did hide something and slightly lie...

Then I couldn’t say it, or take that leap

All I could let out was just a little peep

It was never just a whole room, or even the master suite

It was and is the whole heart, yours to keep

Concerned with opinions thoughts and facts

This soul used to chase but now it rather attracts

"Iss mohabbat mein doobne ka kya faida?"

Mein kya batasaktahun Begum Sajida?!”

A gust in the morning went fleeting with the birds

It took more to understand silence than any words

In-deed