On failed attempts of coming home, wrong priorities and learning better.
Art by Barooja (IG @barooja)
Autumn in March
I combined words I’d written at different points in life for this one.
What I aim to communicate through these words is the feeling of every day being mundane, possibility not exciting you anymore and being hopeless.
This Place
Every place I’ve stayed in or been to gives rise to certain feelings. Often, I subconsiously relate places to objects, colours and certain words. (Is that some sort of synesthesia?)
This is one of those poems, about one particular place.
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Udhampur- a charged tranquility
At the little silver of time between twilight and darkness, the 3 of us had made it to Udhampur. Right away, we were met with a beautiful sunset that was one with the horizon, just reaching up to the sky . 
Everything was silent even though a number of cars were on the road.
We sat in the backseat, listening to 80’s tunes that we didn’t even like, we drove over a low lying, small settlement that was dense with dimmed fluorescent bulbs , it looked secluded and quaint, we held our breath and craned our necks till we left it behind.
Sped through a few tunnels here and there, felt peaceful but wide awake for the first time in a long time .
Amaan kept urging me to notice my own presence, to notice the movement of the wheels on the road; which I later learnt is a form of meditation, being here, being present.
We took turns to rest our heads on the window and watched as the sky grew darker and more lights came on.
– Saadia
The World in Slumber
The world is bathed in
A dull shade of honey
Like the blood is
seeped out of its veins
It’s still pretty
Still striking
How a mustard veil
Can make the sky look new
When the world slumbering underneath
Is dead.
– Saadia
The Sun turned Cold
I’ve loved the mountains
That cradled my home
That held us firm
When lives were lost
And now they disappear
Behind a gust of sand
And I’m left sobbing
At all that my land has endured
And all that it still must.
-Saadia
Atlas
Holding the weight of the sky
And trying to piece a smile
As my knees give away
Counting the wretched seconds
Till the horizon beckons
And I groan
As I fade away.
– Saadia
Spring
Its beautiful.
The tiny velvet blue petals and white dandelions, the sparrow and its hearth, the pine. The budding grass, lush and young, the marbled columns, long roads and the singing of the rare scarlet bird. Its magic and I have fallen for it many times but there is this dark place inside, where the night reigns and stars peek through sometimes, smoke and carnage, broken bones and tired limbs, grey and raven, overlapping and drowning, spring has not found a home yet. Not yet.
– Saadia
Warmth
You may have a dark sky
Fractured by city lights
But I have an orange veil
That reminds me of summer nights.
And a promise that the sky holds
Our dreams and our ambition
Trying to make a sense
Out of one broken world.
So today, I pick up the pieces
And arrange them skyward
And I know that these colors
Will be enough
To form another sunset
Tinged with the warmth
Of a last hug.
– Saadia
Run
Run, kid, run till your lungs ache and your shins split open. Run till you leave the dead earth hanging on the shattered horizon. Run, leave the immaculate fields behind, plains where the grass is too green, run and strip the unnecessary. Run, love, run till your eyes have drowned in an ocean of stinging tears, run till the trees drift away into an illusional distance. Run till the rain has drenched your bones and the snow nestles in your hair. Run till you are carved raw, run till you find the abode of your demons and the abbey of your angels, run , for the sake of your damned life, run. Run till colours drink themselves up in the sky and the night folds into herself.
– Saadia
