There are words− so many – behind that sabotage. And there are longings. Longings, longings, longings Haven’t fathomed ever been, Longings, longings, longings Mayn’t ever fathomed be, Such longings as only tenderness can procure from that ruefulness! O− which starlit dark devoid of midnight sun in frosty-dewy-misty glory has seen not misery, nor heard sobs shivery, or grown dim in disgust at humanity’s heartless-mindless-soulless belligerence? And aye, ’tisn’t a mere mirage or a madman’s fancy, but a conflict cursed with longevity like bereavement….. A childhood unremembered− ephemeral as happiness− does carry wounds sorrow deep! Alas, too sad to weep…. Through fields o’ mangled moulds o’ clay and whipping sands chagrined…. A lonesome embodiment of suffering plods away to nothingness…. But listen, do try− For many words do lie Like tears conceal’d Like wounds unheal’d Like red congeal’d On lips oft seal’d. Ephemeral .......childhood.
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AuthorAlina N. Kidwai Archives
October 2015
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