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.
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