Elegy for the Victims of Bhoja Air Plane Crash

What tree, what lightning, what bloody ground,

all on board are dead.

What lament for the bloody crown,

for all on board are dead.

 

Fantasies may take wings and fly,

Wright brothers did not just dream,

Icarus was no Peter Pan,

Fate’s cards cannot be read.

 

Pine tree in Margalla’s ground,

you saw the bashful couple stroll

in shroud of white, then light, then shade

then fade… as all on board are dead.

 

An arm, a limb, torn from silken skin,

does it matter now what its colour was?

The hues of sunset mirror the loamy soil,

each tone a shade of red.

 

Grieve, the forlorn souls of yesterday,

tomorrow and then day after will come,

but never the smile, the pat, the hug,

now all on board are dead.

To Farah

If joy could fill a tear

your tinkling laughter

would shatter the cloudy cocoon above

and be radiant in cat’s eyes.

 

Aspirations unknown

between the patterned mosaic

of life that ebbed

before the tide at dawn.

 

The heart not healed

but meant to heal

the ripples of a shadowed moonlit bed

of promising buds.

 

Rest in peace cherub

of the twinkling eyes.

Your oyster shell

remains unopened.

02/07/2011 Dedicated to my student Farah Sadia who passed away today at dawn.  May Allah bless her and give strength to all her family members and friends to bear with the loss.

N.B. The name Farah ‘joy’ or ‘happiness’. She was a good student, the proud owner of nearly 20 cats and a cherished friend for those who knew her. May her soul rest in peace.

To Zenia

When from the rosy cheeks of morn
sunlight beams in heaven’s eyes,
I think, I pray, with all my might
that the earth beneath my feet
glowing with the warm blush of youth
makes you feel all I want to say
of love, of innocence and friendship deep.

When the tints from twilight burn
like hot tears onto feverish skin,
I know that what I feel within
is duskier than my living dust
and heavier than your spirit free.

When darkness drifts in grassy plots,
the carefree skip along
till in the gloom they trip and fall; their petals plucked away,

Flowers no more to be.

(This poem, written in 2003 is dedicated to the memory of a childhood friend “Zenia’ who passed away in a fatal road accident in Karachi, Pakistan.)

29-01-2003
11.45 A.M