poetry

dreamshanging outside with washed linensun kissed dreamsdreams kissing the sunand at nightcoming up on the chatt¹to see the moondreams kissing the […]

(an ode to your year that was) there is a pathyou know itand yetare unaware of itfornow. the sun throws

distilled lives~packed in instant coffee silence dripping over the counterdishes wait in earnestness bitter skies~the taste of each seasonhangs in

times wear me outspilling on canvasstains of unfinished livesdripping from my fingersslicing my empty pocketson the pavement-crevices of  my darknessthe

clear waterstreaming downwards ;an ancient  journeyflows in your bloodstream do you hear your own callingthe breadth of ancestorswithin you ?

it’s august and after a long spell  the sky reopenedstuffiness shiftedit’s claustrophobic fangsfrom within our cheststhat arealready tired of breathing heavilythrough the air

there is a stranger in the mirrorbut it feels safe with her;maybe i have known her from before-a doppelganger maybeit has

sliver of the moonstuck in my throat tonightcan’t swallow your name tonight. they said post-pandemic would be the same as

(the following is dedicated to the anguish people are going through during COVID-19 in india and to the people of

یہ خوں کی مہک ہے کہ لب یار کی خوشبوکس راہ کی جانب سے صبا آتی ہے دیکھوگلشن میں بہار