I live for your voice,
the tenderness of your laugh, and the harshness of your charisma,
challenging stigmas, moving your own blood,
I can trace you in the underneath of leaves,
in the roof of my mouth,
can feel the weight you shifted in your life, onto mine,
how you lifted, carried and gifted 6 children into this world,
and caressed a village in your arms,
then there was me,
a child you didn’t expect,
did not bare,
yet,
moulded, shed and bled just like a mother would,
I have stopped looking for mothers now,
there is no going back from a tsunami of a person,
who tricked and molested,
nor is there any going back from this gift from the lord,
a priceless token, unspoken, unheard of,
a quartet of my heart was returned to me,
whilst given this acre of heaven,
how could anyone,
replace the time I had with you,
how could I ever understand this monument you created,
this music you composed for my blood,
to put it at rest,
a mosque for my prayers,
I confessed my wishes of death upon you,
you were my grave,
dug up my horrors for you,
yet I would rest in your presence,
a bed full of thorns as I knew these roses would die,
the same life you gave me,
would be a place where I would place gravestone,
and grieve,
now I play a Dhammal,
for you my Exalted,
I will reach each quarter of the world,
run silk across every city,
will leave a piece of your love upon other people,
just so they can experience what type of selflessness you offered me,
You will find me in every place of worship,
every place of connection,
I let gold ink me, the sun bleeding and burning my skin,
my heart a bed full of souls,
I feel,
because of you,
now I breathe,
because of you,
now,
how could I forget,
that I exist because of you,
the essence of my existence,
the light switch of my life, flickering, yet yours stayed on even through the ending,
Right now I am living vicariously through the language of urdu,
to keep you alive, my Ama,
I am crippled, yet steadfast in my journey,
to keep my feet firm on this ground,
to bleed all the love out of me,