! Abacus: Counting The Days!
Poem By Dr. Afaq A. Qureshi
Are we forgotten like this, so easily;
maybe all the pathways of the world were ignorant,
or was it me? unaware of the currents and currencies?
But, a half defeat leaves such a bad taste in my heart.
When the thorns smiled, I had my whole forest,
my woods started to grin, thorns have loved me so much.
A black cat has been roaming in the room,
and its considered a bad omen,
its not one if its the only creature one has.
meanings change with what we are forced to reap.
while gods slept when we were sowing happiness.
The cat is so arrogant, it hardly says a word to me.
So many people walk around,
Who suddenly fell down? somebody?
This is embarrasing, , Walls are made up of eyes.
very cold grave awaits the fallen.
either it will be me or the cold grave which will cry.
I have said my half, somebody else, other than god,
was to complete the other half of what I wanted to say,
One of these days skies will simply come crashing down,
and the sky will then look at its empty hands.
inferno is nothing but the smoldering fires of dust bins.
one who licks after kililng, is considered authority.
Then is it so that a secret is costlier than a human?
travel gets repeated, it doesnt tire.
I will first admonish the eyes,
and clip their ears, why did they even try to hear things,
Its aching, which color of medicine will suit?
it all depends, what if one refuses to take alms in the form of life itself?
Life, ah, was already sitting near an altar,
why then god should get the blame.
will he ask, which shoe size suits me.
I wish i could tell them to take my eyes,
they are the spendthrifts,
in empty sockets i won't have the pain percolating,
and stinging me, making me cry in heart,
and eyes have misled so many,
why couldnt they see what was so naked and dancing,
just because they wore a veil of love,
for the naked dancer. isnt this too much of punishment,
for those who still try to find meaningful and truthful things,
why cant they be content with shallow meanings of words said,
and told to them. in whispers of dark lies,
they should not question.
they can avoid the asylums.
who walked in me for so long that I
turned into a milestone.
Soil never sleeps,
once the death becomes the
currency of the day, it will fix its own exchange rate.
but justice... that is what was asked for.
give me that.
and try to forgive,
the minor aberrations I was born with.