Marrying Death

Marrying Death
For Farzana Parveen, a three months pregnant woman from Lahore, Pakistan stoned to death in 2014 by a mob led by her father for marrying the man she loved…
Watch and Listen to a reading of the poem by me.

 

Dear Death has been waiting for my favors,
for quite a long time now, perhaps tonight
I shall grant him his yearned consummation
and say, now that’s done, I’m glad it’s over!
   

An immortal life waits beyond the bright sun,
where harmony and mellow dreams are born,
so this is no marriage in its’ simple form
but in fact a rebirth, a renaissance!
    

Bid me not adieu though I’m shortly marrying Death,
it’s not the end but a much brighter beginning,
so make merry and some music too, for tonight
Death is my panting groom and I, his happy bride!

.


 

Waiting For The Words

Waiting For The Words
Dedicated to Dajena Mason

 

But then we need eagle eyes and mammoth hearts
to discover beauty in this carnage
by supposedly peaceful religions
and benign governments, their counterparts!
   

Or be like the Angel in Vatican
on her holy throne, the humblest among
all the men of powers in today’s world
and sing of love, unrequited nonetheless!
   

Thus I wreathed and pined with my quill at hand
drought parched, waiting for the words to unfurl
while dozens of my alter egos died
in bloodstained Lahore and Brussels this year
and Paris in the last, the rest already dead
in old Nineveh, Palmyra and Palestine,
until the queen of Mount Helicon rose and sang
her Aeolian song that sprinkled me with the wine of Hippocrene
and lo, how a fiery phoenix from the ashes is born
to sing of eternal peace and love on his unfurled wings!

.


 

A Moth’s Tale

A Moth’s Tale

Why am I drawn to the light like a moth,
whether it’s from the moon or synthetic?
How long must a moth be fooled by light bulbs
before it can tell the real from the fake?
   

A misunderstood mouse flying on fingers
fares a whole lot better at nights than me,
despite being almost blind, it has its’ words,
high pitched, painting flawless the world around!
   

Unlike a cicada I have no ultrasound,
so I need a route unpolished by Eve, Adam
and their descendants, plotting for prosperity
or I’ll always be fooled by the lure of their lights!
    

But then, even if I could reach the moon I would have known,
the light that brought me there from earth had never been her own!

.