Wednesday, July 1, 2020



Do they know, It is you?

And perhaps           I borrowed words for so long
That even               the taste of my own blood, started to taste foreign
I skip                        heartbeats to see this sky open free
I stare                      past the chants of revolution in my street
But If                       courage had a face  it would smile back like that woman at eighty
And what               if these roses tumble open this earth but they fail to recognize me
Recognize the       hues with which they painted me
Recognize that      this tribe is me.


So the last time/ you spoke/ how many lies escaped that mouth/ was there a chain or a break/ was there a reflection or an open space / was the sky still gazing down or the earth was spinning around your feet /there are shrieks on the street that call you a traitor/ there is a stillness in your home that calls you a warrior  / revolution was never a damsel in distress, as they thought/ it was an amour in kind with a lover and a casket/ they never told you that it was in your descent to eat love like a claret/ you borrowed it, just like the Adam’s apple from your father’s generation/ a sight at you and they don't know where to look/ if I tell you there are pages in my diary that are written after you but the expressions are empty/ would you believe it or Christian me as another of your forgotten sin/if atoms in a body could speak/ I would have them remember a new string of alphabets/ I'll borrow the tears of the past generation and bring them to life in a forsaken language/ if you take ten steps back, you'll find a story with a new stretch/ and if you leap a hundred steps forward, you'll be another regret coloured in scarlet/

When the God listens to you

There are beginnings that are
You scurry across them, and call them to be
Like the man you met eyes with at the last stop of the subway station and he never even
If lovers had songs after them, mine would be Frank Sinatra on a dusty old
All empty, forsaken with my hands trying to
But I believe, I was taught this
Taught this
Taught this
That if you cross your heart and split open your breaths
God listens to you
To you
In the name of your forbidden love
God listens to


MARYAM ABBASI, is a post graduate from India. She had fallen in love with novels and poetry at a young age and has since then made it a point to live her passion. She did her post-graduation from literature and is currently involved in teaching. She has gone professional with her writing in the year 2017 and since then has been published both nationally and internationally.

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