Sadness

“My sorrow, when she’s here with me, 

Thinks these dark days of autumn rain

are beautiful as days can be.”

 ~ Robert Frost

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Sadness makes herself at home again

and my limbs stay by my sides,

weighed down to begin with,

defeated without a fight.

She grins at me

over the rim of her cup

and reminds me of how much

it takes to stay afloat,

I forget I’d realized

my freedom to leave,

another leaden sip

burns down my throat.

 

4 August 2019

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Frantic phone calls spiderweb across families

college sessions terminate 2 days after they start

lights for a wedding lie still, unlit,

in anticipation, in unclarity

an indefinite curfew imposed

the night before an orphan was to be married.

 

Kashmir lies still,

veins taut in alarm,

too much stillness

for a possibility of war.

~ Saadia

 

Wrote this on the 4th of August when it was still unclear what was going to happen, there were rumors of war and Kashmir was gripped with a fear that was impossible to swallow. 65+ days of communication blockade and 90+ days of internet shutdown later, here we are, still counting the days.