Where are you?

By Mohammad Tabish


Once again night falls
I haven’t slept for decades
Don’t call it a nightmare
I am already dead

The stones I throw used to be my home once
This hunger is no humor
I have taken abode amidst yellow stones
My voice froze trying to reach you

No archangel fell to witness the holy in me
I am no son of Abraham
I am nothing but a slaughtered sheep
This ought to be a sin

I have no name
Am I a bleeding prisoner beyond the interrogation gates
Or a withered odorless flower?
I am no more the clown in Shalimar

A newspaper blotted with the blood of martyrs
How can I forget your cheerful face?
I am so alone your absence haunts me
Where are you now?

The air is fresh with the smell of raw rubies falling from my scars
of deceit drawn by those keepers of the peace
No one else is left to cherish these wounds
From tyranny raw cuts lighten up

I can’t bear to see your mother in an unending wait
Never letting her eyes away from the door
Calling each visitor by your name
Habba-Khatoon wailing her solitude at the Moon

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