Every time I teach
You pop out of your poems
sit in a corner and gaze at us.
Don`t you see
How I quiver while explicating lave of emotions?
Torrents that split apart you
pass through us as well.
And here you find yourself
In eyes of some one sitting before,
a pain flashing across the face,
a tear hovering on borders,
a smile subdued by agony.
Sylvias Sylvias all around.
Your poems need dead silence
like one you had in last moments
by that gas stove.
Its when your words become smoke
wandering in heart-lands
and settling on love-bands.
Thats when your poetry becomes arrows
stuck in bosom of time
that had no balm
neither calm for you.
Sylvia!
You are more than a suicide.
You are a life in death.
Over all the globe,
in class-rooms and lit-homes,
your ashes are sprayed like painful scent.
Your bones lie naked
and we make pearls out of them.
(Shahid Azad)
بشکریہ
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