Who Is It?
The ground is torn to pieces with the shattering of the Earth,
I’ve been banished from the home that does not deserve my birth.
This is injustice that I cannot comprehend in a complete way,
I rack my emotions to bleed upon the carpet of the day.
But nothing can beat the cry of the heart broken,
I carry my blood flowing in a bottle as a token.
Now this is the mystery of the death of a loved one of my own,
She was so close to my bones & yet she tore my flesh in disown.
Therefore my question is asked by the matter of cause,
Who is the cause of my suffering who led me to say because?
Who is it? Is it my father?
Who is it? Is it my mother?
Who is it? Is it my brother?
Who is it? Is it my sister?
But in the end the thunder clapped its hand during the flood,
It was a lover who broke the poet’s heart & drew red blood.
I forgot the name of the soul but I remembered the heat,
Of love immortal this rings the bell of the ever ascending beat.
But now the coma has set in & the pain is all mine,
I have to set it all right for I cannot be in a word unkind.
Who is it? Is it the traitor?
Who is it? Is it the sage?
Who is it? Is it the impaler?
Who is it? Is it the Lord of the dead?
No answer comes to me except the cries of the broken hearted,
I must set off on my course to land where the lover is charted.
Who was this lover who killed the poet in me?
Who is to be ranked among the dead this is what I shall see?
But the house has been struck by lightning with a silver cord,
I shall bring back the lover to my door who once was my lord.
Copyright 2014 Fiza Pathan
Image courtesy: http: www.morguefile.com/archive/display/92551