When the Only Son leaves home for studies abroad. Everlasting Bonds, by Birth I never felt the distance before, Nor sensed the silence in the room, I never missed the familiar footstep Nor the clutching click of the door; Now often I think I hear The soft burr of your bike Rolling, whirring in the lane The lifting flick of the gate way latch And the “tick tick” on the window pane; At times I see you on the prayer mat Or in your writing chair; Where you would sit for hours on end To read and write and note and plan, And from time to time Would turn around, to exchange A friendly chat; And now I know why God made sons Why faith and peace is strong, When love is true and distances long, No absence can ever break the bond; And now I know How one so close, can be so far away, No one can show, no one can wait To stop and pat and wipe your tears away; My son my dear, in distant land You are with me, each day As when I first held your hand You first opened your eyes, And tried to say, “Aye” Time moved on and time moves on Time is just fair My son My dear, in another land, You are not here …. You left the footsteps in the sand; I know, I wake up with a start, You are forever in my heart; Your helmet heavy in your hand, I see you, standing there. Famished Femininity Lift the latch and you will find cracks in the door, scarred traces of hot tempered rackets- sad sorrowful echoes of screams, slaps and strikes, in the tender dwellings of famished femininity- whose chest is crammed with refrains of ugly curses profane, drafted with hatred mundane- beauty’s blend for care created for eternal company stays abused spared not why? who will cut the strings of human bondage lacerant tortured Suffering Silent Cry! What was ancient ignorant and abolished made eloquent and sacred Open the door and you will find famished femininity current in countless fetters slowly visibly tabescent- Why- Reflections on the Birth of a Female Child Nature’s womb, a home, a life, a love emerging in pain, washed covered, put away unaware, who held - so warmly at first, fed so fully at first hugged so tightly at first born, a new born unsafe, insecure, exposed know not how many saw, touched, caressed -more responsibility said a heavy voice- same body, same blood but not the same- not the same - not the same- vision..... pain...still there abuse ...everywhere rape...in gangs escape...rare. Thoughts of a Woman, on Women’s Day created sacred beguiled abused ordered bound accused excused what woman's day means to her she thought- what nights will make her scream Day is work no escape Night , Love? No, Rape- fears and fears of rape, drugged missing real or fake? should she think of women famous? those who are seen on history pages? should she think of those unseen, pushed kicked thrown in cages? mothers and daughters in frustration yet manage homes and serve nations should she honor the saintly ones who were obedient ordained should she mention those half widows, widows of genocide chained enslaved in perpetual pain? or those maids forced to labour or those who hold kids while parents dine and perhaps wine' whom should she call 'mine' standing serving morn till nine- and there are families royal to the people crown so loyal loved honored seen by all that is not all..... so many names graceful glorified history remembers all sacrificed she thought...cannot pick one or two one in white covered one in blue- East or West old or new...Oh Athena! Wise One Help, if only I knew-
Anjum Wasim Dar, migrant Pakistani of Kashmiri origin, Masters in English Literature & American Studies, Masters in History, (Elective Indo Pak History of the Sub Continent) Punjab University, awarded a scholarship for distinction in English Language, holds a Post Graduate Diploma in TEFL, and Certificate of Proficiency in English from Cambridge University UK. An International Award Winner Poet of Merit, Bronze Medal, ISP USA-2000, Short Story Writer, Author of a Novel for Young Adults, “The Adventures of the Multi Colored Lead People” (Unpublished) Former Head of English Department at Pakistan Air Force AIR University Islamabad.
Digital Artist with Focus on Ekphrastic Poetry.
Poetry Blog : http://poeticoceans.wordpress.com
Short Story Blog : http://storiesmiracles.wordpress.com
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