Forgiveness

A young lad, going to the Shrine,
With his mother, was struggling
With the belly-height snow.
Sweating, panting not by her Burden
But the Oath he had taken.
The snow in the milieu was shrieking,
“Don’t go, don’t go, She is sneaking.”
Hugging his limbs not to go,
Sticking his legs not to go,
Ceasing his feet not to go,
Omening of Someone.
Deaf, dumb and blind he did walk
“I will do, I will do,” to himself he did talk.

After all this hue and cry
Between him and snow so high,
A voice from shoulder came
Addressing him not by his name,
“My heart, I need some rest.”
Under the willow her did he take
Willow his pillow, her his chest.
Shivering was she with cold
Had he been told
By her voice and lips so old
He would have her in his arms hold.

Here a Lass came round by
From her eyes it did seem she said Hi,
Left he his mother in venomous-frigid-cold
Ran behind to get her hands’ hold.
As he did reach her hand
She was no more in the land.
Brimmed with grief came he back
But what he saw broke his back
For the mother was no more
He could take on his back
To the Shrine shining in his heart.
Sullen and silent he did take,
With his heart swelling so great,
Her head in his lap.
What he had done he did know
Of all this Eternal Blow.
Eternal-sleep she was in
He beheld in her chin.
To the Past his thoughts rewind
Where he had left her behind.
His heart sank so deep
Where, none, but he could peep.

What did it bring he didn’t know
A perspiration sliding down his brow.
And a tear down his cheek fell
Her pale-lips on it fell
Quiver for a moment they did well
To him all they could tell,
“My heart, death is so fatal
Which no one can foretell,
I do pardon all you did
For, my heart I know, a Lass you undid.
Another tear rained down
Of not grief but of glee.
It did icicle on his eyelashes
Like wetness on the boughs of willow.
For he was Dead!

Zaif

All the five doors Zaf pulled open were filled with empty air and the last one, half open, was echoing with whispering. Standing outside he peeked in with his left eye and was shocked at what he saw. He gave the door a nudge and it creaked open. Shy the girl was sitting in the lap of a man; they were startled at this interruption and disappeared as lightning in the sky. All what Zaf had piled in his heart turned to ash. His smile was enigmatic that night. It held a secret. It was so unusual that he left quite early in the morning. The Artist had bloodied the morning sky . Heavy hearted he took the same way he always did. The brimming banks of the shimmering brook, studded with green grass laced the path he put his heavy feet on. So sunk was he at the remembrance of previous night’s sight that the world outside didn’t matter to him, that it didn’t exist, that it was burning like the Doomsday. In that air of deafness his ears began to let in a shout and his feet stopped; his entire skinny little body revolved once. Thirteen visible heads were approaching him. In those he deciphered a familiar face who came forward and uttered, ” Are you Zaf?.” No sooner did he nod his head in affirmation than a showering rain of thumps of wooden and metallic logs hit his whole body. Little did he know why they were laundering him so tidily. The Sun refrained them. The familiar face threw a piece of paper at his face and said, “don’t ever even think of her.” With that they vanished. So bad was the effect of the assault that it didn’t let him see the paper. Drawing the paper out from his pocket his drenched eyes met a letter written in his own hand. What had kept him hanging and hopeful was her not replying to it.”Had she seen even a glimpse of it ; I couldn’t have built this castle of dreams; the castle that’s burning in my face now… I couldn’t… Couldn’t….. Coodnnnnn….” he said with tears blurring the lines. He wiped them. Mother, with a knife in one hand and a cucumber in other, pushed open the door. He told her to get him some salt. No sooner had she went out for it than he, too despondent, put the knife to his throat and lay on the paper. The knocking at the door awoke him and he saw to his surprise his mother with a fistful of salt.

My Heart

O World! O Soul! O Life!

Let me weep all the day

Until I reach my Goal

As a stream last meets her bay,

And mingles with ‘ternity

Of sea, loses its name

And all its authority

Of the World of mortal fame.

Weep more and more until

Thy heart would say, ” cease cease

‘Tis  the way to sip Rill,

‘Ntil  thy sins would decrease. ”

O God! Grant me Thine Pardon

So that I be in Eden!

Solace

My Heart in Spring springs as Spring
Incessant doleful notes its waters sing.
With what sables its waters array
A medley of gloom forth its waters bring.

All my body shivering starts
With the seething of my heart’s
Doors-shut sullen the bloods strike
Brimming my eyes showering it starts.

O my Love what solace then it brings
When I see Thee in mornings
Ceasing my tremblings all at once
Hushing hushing all my throbbings.