Woe To The Desert
By Fiza Pathan
The desert bakes in the heat
As I lay down in the sands.
I’m passing my time talking
About liberalism to the rattle snake.
I’m waiting for the rains to come, and
Quench the thirst of this hot land.
My lover has certainly forgotten me, and so
I sleep with the scorpions who sting me a lullaby.
Their sting so sharp makes my flesh swell up
Yet my heart still beats within my breast
Not yielding to the poison.
The cactus and the camel
Are my friends in this wasteland;
One satisfies my thirst while
The other carries me with the tribe.
My lover has taken everything from me and
Has left only his memory behind for me to feed to
The vultures that constantly stalk my path.
There were so many loving words
Upon these lips of mine but now
All that is left are curses galore.
Where has he gone away to
And why has he broken my heart?
O vultures go to the Arab oasis
And ask him about his intentions.
I’m to remain here till eternity
Without a partner to share my woes.
O woe to the hours we spent
Together below the Himalayan Mountains
Talking endlessly about amour to each other
For now only curses I hear
When the sandstorm blinds me.
You left me because I
Reminded you of a desert
And took my friend to be your wife
A fruitful vine in the garden of your lust.
And I am now vacant in my emptiness
With the scorching sun-god above my head
And sand dunes to shade me
As a small effort of comforting.
Copyright © 2014 by Fiza Pathan
Image courtesy: http://www.morguefile.com/archive/display/27194