After a long time
today I opened
The secret chambers
of my heart.
There was nothing
except some
Silverfish-ravaged
past papers
Of your memories.
Page by page I sold
all papers of
Your memories in
lieu of sixty six
Pennies to feed my
filthy stomach.
The merchant was
reluctant to accept
Hopeless papers of
love.
He kept saying with downcast eyes,
“I don’t deal in
revealed scriptures.
God forbid! It is a
blasphemy.”
I told him
otherwise and assured him
Of no ill fate that
may befall him.
The sacred silver
pages of my heart
Bear the unholy
touch of an infidel.
The scripture of
heart is always open
Like our fragile
lives in Kashmir,
To the attacks of
ruthless wild wind.
Its pages are milk-white always
Waiting for some
hand to imprint
The first
impressions of love.
Love! I thank the
day we met
And separated
silently in silence.
There are no ‘forty
rules of love.’
Love has no rule to
lay down and
To love is not a
rule at all.
Once dead in the
hunger of solitude.
It saved me and fed
my belly.
Ashaq Hussain
Parray
No comments:
Post a Comment