A Poem by khatoon hazara




black ......



i am not a magician of words-
i am not your perfect sunset
tho, i wish for a better way to tell you
your love is something i cannot forget
something that cannot be forged- in heat or metal or 
labour or cake or food of any sorts

i am scared and these are the words that will never be seen 
but one day they will be and when they are i’ll be long dead
these are the unseen scrapings of my heart
to you for whom i am an angel
to you for whom i am gods dream
something to seem unseemingly holy

and to say i am just human would be a lie
i love you more than you could ever know but beware
for this is where demons tend to go
lying to rest their tired bodies
thoughts of fire and heat
i don’t mind, i serve as only a vessel
for the bones that they leave
i pick them up
one by one
reconstructing the past
but they go through human souls like termites
disfiguring just as fast

“harken ye ole harpy
and beckon to our will
we will serve to you utopia
if you slave to us and kill”
then striking up a symphony
of rotted bodies and decay
they play a haunting melody
something to suffice my wicked ways
“do thy pledge thine allegiance
to the broken and the sinful
the cruel and the concave; the britches of thine chapel?”
do thy promise to be bonded by the blood of ancient pasts?
what am i trying to say?
what am i trying to prove?
that i’m afraid of love, afraid to come through?
i’m broken and am bent on curved knees, appealing to 
the power unbeknownst of me, “fly, for you too are too important 
to just sit here and watch the world fade away from you. fly, for you 
too are so important than just the make believe world of mindsets 
set in a time where all they had to say was jump and they jumped. most
, to their deaths: not knowing where their hearts were placed. not having 
the right experiences to guide them in whatever ways they needed guiding
. fly, for once don’t let the steering wheel steer you, you are worth too much 
to just let yourself become nothing but dust and the chaffed remains of 
the old world. fly, to the bosom of your heart and never come back until 
you can see your name in your minds eye and not want to cry. fly.”

© 2020 khatoon hazara

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Added on February 3, 2020
Last Updated on February 3, 2020


khatoon hazara
khatoon hazara


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