I could be truly but myself
just as them on the hem of the moon
or at the edge
in some realm of possibility
whatever it could be-
to put all my heart into words
and let my silence bleed
and run wildly through its pages.
And blank, I stare wallowing in my head-
What’s it all in that quantum entanglement?
The bystander thoughts and the bygone ones
trawl words through ceaseless bouts of pain.
The pain reasoned
the unreasonable pain
to give birth to a poem
for me and a distant listener
to acquaint with the pain
accustomed to his own.
a string of broken words travail
as the pain climbs up
into the distorted emotions
to ponder in my lacerating heart.
its fragrance redolent with poetry
the blood, the poem-
the bloody poem!
though this makes it no short of faults.
~ Bushrah Khursheed