Charcoal has settled on stars
in a way when loneliness begins to look
like a companion; a fear the moon should
come between the motes of this air I have
held in frozen fractals – my (own) star
in my palm – the colour of my night,
my defeats, my dreams that first incubate
in my eyes stay dis-armoured, look closer
for estuaries, valleys, rocks, and the water
that shells within on my face where my sun
prefers rising down behind where the land
cannot define ends or hope in them; don’t lift
the mountain from my back, only let me
the privilege of the path.
Sheikha A. is from Pakistan and U.A.E. and often finds herself in a world of oscillation that most of the times motivates her writing too. She maintains a (or tries to) blog on sheikha82.wordpress.com.