Poetry

Pounding, Heart Aching And Burning Chest

A poem by Saqib Manzoor

Weary soul, exhausted visage,
Swollen eyes, hurting ears,
Bleeding nose and drenched body
Stand still in abandoned land, carrying nothing but a fragile heart inside burning chest and a bag stuffed with letters stained with memories of longingness, separation, resistance, and death.
Tiny but heavy and filled with a colossal burden.
One heavies my chest and another my wounded tender shoulders.

Thundering in the dark sky draped in murky clouds,
The barking of canines and pounding in my chest are excruciating.
I wish raindrops caress my heavy chest, seep into it… into the heart and soak the haunting graveyard of my heart.

Things concealed in scores of graves are thumping, striving to vent, lunge the shivering tongue, trembling lips and narrate their plaintive tales or just rip my heart out of my chest and get freed.

That night,
Moon, the Minaret of Mausoleum, the boughs and leaves of Chinar, the weak teary eyes of people witnessed and attended her interment but none saw the arising of graveyard inside my chest.

In the graveyard, she was welcomed by poems recited by Ababeel, Moaj(s)of hamlet, leaves, rain, sky while there was peculiar silence in the appearing graveyard of my heart.

When I buried her in graveyard dotted with nameless graves,
When my tongue, lips, eyes were quiet,
When I burned our first letter, she had sent me when I made an penetrating and loud graffiti on the bleak walls of hamlet,
The eyes of sky cried and bathed the land of dead beloved and lovers,
Cupped hands raised towards the sky were soaked in the tears of sky,
The tongue of leaves and animals wailed and lamented,
The nose of ambiance sighed and begot the tremor, shaking the core of murderers,
And, the hands of Earth cuddled the corpse of Mayhem.

Still…I stood beside the grave(s) and the ash of burned ‘Letter of a living dead lover and dead beloved.’

I Went on burying the beloveds and lovers whilst adding graves in the graveyard of my heart.

I Would sit beside her soaked grave, murmuring prayers and poems for her,
She talked to me through the gentle kisses of breeze,
Rustling leaves and swinging flowers,
Soon everything was depleted
I became lunatic possessing nothing but pounding heart and aching, burning chest.

Here, I am alone with steeked lips and protesting heart, in a meadow incognizant of;
When it’ll come to be another graveyard flecked with graves of beloveds and
How many more graveyards in the hearts of lovers will be cultivated.
But who’ll witness it?
Trees have been slaughtered,
Birds have gone exile,
Writers, and poets are buried in unknown graves.
There is none to witness it but;
Miserable blotted Moon and beclouded sky,
That behold the burden of obvious and hidden Graveyards.

Just

Graves became part of me and

I want to become part of a grave dug beside MehYam.

News Desk

News Desk staff at The Kashmir Radar. Posting unbiased news as we believe in pure journalism!

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