Soul Sucking Healing.

The winter is seeping into my skin

And as everyday brings a new beginning, a little of your presence seem to freeze.

The universe calls it healing and moving on.

I find it brutally sucking the life within and building a grave.

For you are a distanced memory, or that's what they say.

Hard to believe, when even the faintest of consciousness revolves around your being.

A woman

I am a woman.

A creation destined to create.

Magic with my hands that weave a poem and a sock.

Love with my eyes that seeps in your grief and ecstasy.

Life with my womb and heart that gives you a title or terror.

Songs with my tongue that surrenders your cruelty or boasts your justice.

Memories with my shadow that you fret at or yearn.

Contentment with my mind that intimidates or indulges your conversation.

But first, a soul that submits to your Creator and nothing else.

A woman,  the Creator blessed to share a lil of the journey of creating.

A man in a casket

Do you chose blindness as a curtain for that unbreakable heart of yours?

Or are you delusional to believe that you are not manly enough to own a vulnerable heart?

What has mirrors spoken to you so terribly that you often mask your sensitivity?

Or are you a coward to embrace arrogance as your armour?

Oh amor, let me hold you, and witness how there is nothing but a soul that rests in a casket that's carved by the mass.

While within rests a feather felt flesh that beats intensely while hugging a soul that was blown in by the Gentle and the Elegant.

(The image is of a collegue of mine and a beautiful picture captured by another collegue which i found to be so gentle and nice that it turned to be a muse for this poem.)

A poem. (It was hard)

Heavenly Way

In Your Abode there's a secret space.

A safe opened to the lovers of submission.

Guide me to Your blessings,

In between my weeps and wounds.

Let them tear and bleed,

Paving that heavenly way,

Oh, that of Siraathal Mustaqeem.

Image from Wildvibes Wayanad, Kerala

Senses and Silences.

Love has no language.

But, it does have senses to it.

An embrace, erupts the skins.

A kiss sweetens the lips.

A glance mesmerises the eyes.

A gasp, melody to the ears.

And the lover's drips, intoxicating.

Amidst all, the beauty of silence,

a warmth to the soul.

Our Eden (In a Fantasy)

In between the chaos of the world,

I walked into this garden.

Amidst flowers that bloomed and butterflies that fluttered,

My withering wilderness found an abode.

An eden you had made,

Your chest, my bed

Your shoulder, my shade

Your words, my root.

And so i grew, so did my wild flowers.

We crept and entangled as one, and so the garden prospered.

Alas satan whispered a song 

And a storm of envy came by.

You were mute and i uprooted.

Left to wither, caressed by your memory.

On A Seashore, A Melody

The sun is setting. It's beautiful. It is. As always it has been. And my heart is brimming. The waves sing the same melody and they sound like the last good bye you had in hand for me.

To me it seems like ages before when our arms collided, and then our eyes. Or was it the eyes first? Sigh, I've them mixed as i fell in your tender pool of smile, that took me to the streets of sweet cooked breads in Konya.

I don't remember what it was, but what i do know is life has changed since then. It feels surreal. All of it. Yet so rawly, factually, genuinely true. There's this wind that has been fondling me for the past hour. I wonder if you send her to me. She has this scent, so familiar. That of salt and shyness. A mixture your kisses gave me.

The Lil Cravings

I crave for simple things. Like the warmth of your presence as I open my eyes. To go out and grab a cup of coffee while we talk of mundanity and philosophy and reality. To cook and eat and fill tummies and hearts. To laze around and make out while the laundry chair piles up. To talk to our Lord and make conversations worth this life and next. To go on and on about how tiring the day was and to listen to you ramble about your experiences of socialising.

I crave for silences amidst journeys and for freedom within expressions. Some roads I crave to take with no one beside me while others along other soul. I crave for simple things like the world to accept that there are galaxies and universes within each soul and one cannot limit anyone. We have never deciphered what a soul is made of and so how does one have the audacity to chain yours or mine. 

I crave to laugh amidst aches and struggles. I crave for another soul that shall be able to accept the vulnerability and intensity I possess. I crave for love. I crave for kindness. To be able to live and die amidst ups and lows knowing very well life goes on and up until the last breath I did live. I crave to carve words that shall speak to a soul or two when in need.

(In)Sanely Conversations

Though i am no more in love with you, my heart pleaded i let you know that she loves you.

I've tried telling her to stop this madness.

How does one kill what keeps them alive, she asked me back?

She finds the love she holds for you as her drug to keep me sane and alive.

I am troubled.

Do i kill myself or see my heart pained?

Ah, the dilemmas of unrequited love!

Eternal Rendezvous

Lend me a ear, will you?

Listen to my mute words, very few.

Bid farewell, but never in your prayer.

Leave them hanging every night in the air.

So when i do turn to dust,

they shall be my sole companion.

My Ruh and your Dua,

shall form an eternal union.

Conversations

- How do you know that one truly loves another?

- They don't really know such things zuv, it's felt within their presence and absence. Love never was meant to be sort out by knowledge. 

- But then, what about a soul that can't feel?

- Zuv, when love reaches one's doorstep, even the dead shall greet it. The simple word holds so much power it's unimaginable.

- Do you feel love?

- Zuv, why would you make me insane with such questions?!

She smiled and let him rest back his head on her lap. She realised how love felt then. She felt him breath in and exhale. The air around them seem to be scented with love. She played with his golden brown hair. Twirling them, as if building a nest of hope in each strands of hair.

Bridge.

Bridges between,

the certain and uncertain.

the said and unsaid.

the heard and unheard 

the loved and unloved.

the seen and unseen.

A little life exists.

Far from absurdity, close enough to insanity.

A string of thoughts beaded with emotions.

To reveal or hide, to invoke or sleep.

Questions and conflicts, unanswered alas!