The Stench Of Love
By Fiza Pathan
The mist has dazed me to foolishness
And my eyes are blind to your faults.
The crookedness of your form is true
And your left eye is hazed
With a film white as milk.
Yet old love I care for you
Like a Mother for her child.
I want to be like Upagupta*
And be with you when you really need me
To spread the balm of healing over your wounds.
I love you my dearest old one of my heart
You have hypnotized me with your single eye
And have poured all the mesmerism you bear into my pupils.
Yet I need you dearest old lover
In the mist that clouds my horizon.
The swamp in which I reside
Is the cursed home you have gifted to me.
I play with the frogs and heal their boils
While the toads give me company
When I long for the glimpse of the passion-flower.
My marshy land is now my abode
Where I stir the balm of healing for your stripes.
By his stripes we are healed
Were the words you once
Whispered tiredly into my ears.
Now with the stripes upon my heart
Your body, soul and element is healed.
I have a potion for aching wounds
And a tonic for tired eyes.
The day you find no lover to be by your side
There shall you find me in the swamp
The stench of our old love.
Copyright © 2014 by Fiza Pathan
*Upagupta [circa. 3rd Century B.C.] was a Buddhist monk.
Image coutesy: http://www.morguefile.com/archive/display/217382