i’m standing at the threshold
a child plump – hair tied
eyes fixed on liquid lives i do not
understand . i am four
the eagle swims through watery clouds
i leave my diary open in hope
you will read its chasm filled pages
i want you to understand. i am fifteen
birds of prey wait and watch
i give you your last *ghussal
your lips have sworn allegiance
my anguish remains a secret buried
with you.
i wanted you to understand. i am 21
white serenity migrates over the
*Quetta skies
to warmer abodes
you watch me watch you watch me
i want to make you understand. i am 30
brown hair i pleat
kneading love into your laughter
you share stories from school
i ache to understand. you are 15 daughter
i stand at the door
at the gate
near cars
by the window
to smile at your vacant departures
i understand how it all ends
brief interludes , briefer stories –
here rests age
defiant women
weaving lives unto lives
laughing as we bake our bread-
round *rotis
need not be perfect;
sharing ancient fables
of survival
woman after woman
ruins erected over those
who couldn’t understand ;
that love survives albeit
lovers departing~
* ghussal is the last rite in islam. the last bath of the dead
* Quetta- migratory birds fly over the skies
of Quetta, from north to south
*rotis- baked bread
October 2019