By Fiza Pathan
Stolen love has broken my heart into several pieces-
treachery has overshadowed the tranquility of amour.
The one I thought to be my own,
has been usurped, by my best friend.
The day that act took place
love died and friendship no longer existed.
My friend, is not mine anymore,
my lover refuses to acknowledge my existence.
Dear Lord of Hosts I know now the meaning of the soul’s tragedy
upon the rood of forgetfulness.
I gave without asking for interest on my loan
but my friend-my bosom friend
left me destitute by marrying my lover.
Laughter I hear all day and night
of my evil one who gloats at my loss.
The night of the drunk has been realized;
I drowned myself in alcohol while my best friend
tasted the bile in my gall bladder and spat me away.
I have no control over my emotions anymore
I scream and wail and weep and mourn all day long.
When night comes, I lay lifeless upon the sick bed
from an illness no doctor can cure or empathize with-
I suffer from the jolt of a lost lover.
My aching heart tears my breasts
which makes me want to dig at my flesh with a knife.
I carve the name of my old lover with the blade on my bare chest
to reach an ecstasy of complete incurable and eternal pain.
My old lover will have a lot to answer for on Judgement Day;
but I know that his sins will be pardoned
while I’ll be thrust into burning hell.
For the Lord tests the ones near to him in fire,
the blazing heat that transmutes metal into gold.
This is the alchemy of life and pain which I have to undergo.
With every step I take the wound upon my chest
makes me want to cry out for justice.
But no comforter do I see to aid me
other than my verses which sing my woes to the world.
Copyright © 2014 by Fiza Pathan
Image courtesy: http://www.morguefile.com/archive/display/153995