Time passes,
Months, fragments, seconds,
days, 9 months, 10 years,
you turned 50,
and its been one year since she turned over into her death,
and I almost forgot,
the fragrance of home,
within both of you,
how I survived,
ever so brutally,
despite irregularities,
the barbarity of this brutality,
I swam into this gentle space of current, of now,
from a coma of solid fog,
of ash asphyxiating my every moment,
how I was sleeping for death to come take me,
my prayers never answered,
yet now,
The Creators navigate me,
I am cradled into sleep by the roots of trees,
Corolla and calyxes hugging me into protection,
While your souls live through me,
I have never been as close to you now, through death,
then when your bodies had life,
Jugular, to veins, to cappilaries,
Ama resides in my spine,
in my feet,
all ten toes,
She is my exoskeleton,
who gave refuge to a broken heart,
she bled love into me,
while Daddy lives through my mannerisms,
his understanding my place of rest,
a bed for me to close my eyes and pray to,
I wonder how,
despite oceans apart,
universes and existences differentiating me from them,
I remember once more,
How I have another home that chants only in poetry,
That bodies apart,
there is a ground where Saints walked upon,
Where the skies bled in candour so worshippors could study the the stars,
I wonder if I was born in the wrong time,
My heart in ecstasy,
Infatuation of the beloved,
this House,
in its bloody ground, with bullets,
and farms, mothers inked in mendhi, and saffron,
Sufism,
Pakistan,
Afghanistan,
Ama and Aftab,
Seeds sewn within me,
How could I ever deny,
this tapestry that drapes my skin,
My tongue loitering in poetry,
dripping of my lips,
I am a scavenger for the sound of tablah,
the singers of pain will forever live in the spirit of the earth,
Just listen to the way the trees swing,
and the way the sea seizes your attention,
how it engulfs your every atom,
your breath drops from the magnitude the sea that dares to be bigger than you will ever be,
I will be incessantly, perpetually, in love with this currency of energy, of craving,
that lives within this tiny framework that holds my blood.
O’ how I cannot wait to rejoice,
for the day I find a home within my own set of bones