I’m wasting colours, painting time,
Throwing the pen in the air,
Slicing okra in the orange-faded
Kitchen, watching the thirds tessellate
Like broken stencils in the colander.
The metal fades, so I drag the blinds
And unscroll the curtains to see rain
Slipping down the windows.
The Song? Tapestries of water
Drops, puddles, oceans, casting lullabies,
I try to follow – but my voice dies,
They whisper the tune until I forget.
Everything turns to dust:
I can tell you I will, not when,
There are shapes in the shadows,
One day the light will go out
And the shadows will spill.
She worries about your future,
Whether you have everything or nothing,
The world is dangerous, mad for things,
People fight for land, oil, metal,
Things that will turn to dust, one day,
She lays you close to her heart,
Cradling your tiny, porcelain hands.
She cannot protect you from life,
Only join you in death,
WOW! MashAllah, this poem is simply beautiful my dear. I loved it and it was such a nice reminder. It’s one of those poems that make you think…oh and great imagery. :)
Assalamualaikum, Aziza. JazakAllah for your comment, sister. :)
Aww! That was really cute, and it flowed really well. I love it. :3
Assalamualaikum, Raadia. :) JazakAllah.
Funnily enough, this was one of those strange poems that felt like it came from nowhere when I was writing it!
MashaAllah, this is just amazing. I have re-read it at least four times so far. Can’t wait to hear more of your work, inshaAllah!
And Inshallah she will indeed join the tiny person in jannah!
This was simply beautiful Mashallah! May Allah swt grant you many of such poetic moments so you continue inspiring readers! Ameen.
you are so right, everything will turn to dust
this gave me goosebumps! I especially love the beginning, where you say “wasting colors, painting time.”