The Weeping Poet of Suppressed Love
by Fiza Pathan
Look around everywhere you go;
People are breaking their hearts in fragments of delusion.
It’s insanity to follow the path of the sorrowful,
Whose every heartache, burns and scorches his existence.
But yet I will go on loving the wrong man,
I will permanently burn my wax candles at his inglorious shrine.
Wrinkles indent my sweating face and my eyes are red,
Redder than the sacred heart of tenderness
Towards this stranger in my life.
This is the way of the mesmerised lover,
Who like a serpent dances to the tune of the vile snake charmer.
My venomous teeth are broken,
By my lover’s passionate fingers of selfishness.
Something is in this world of hate
And that is the maniac called the hallucinating lover.
I am such a crazed woman
Who will love the wrong man eternally.
With groans and sighs I will decorate
My cold forehead of surrender.
I am the mad one, whose dreams are haunted
By the poets of the Arabian desert
And the serpent of my anguishing cries.
I can chant a tune of affection for the dead
As well as to the broken hearted
Or the red rose who has lost its bloom to my gloom.
Can you hear the sound of my funeral prayer?
It tolls to the tune of an everlasting waltz.
The petals of loveliness are my food
While gin is my water to them
To grow magically from root to thorns.
I grow weeds of death in the garden of my emotional world,
And I tend to my dying soul with gentle care.
It is a consolation, to see my lover hate me at every chance he gets
He humiliates my looks of maddening devotion
And casts away the sand grains of time into my open eyes.
A witch of painless cuts have I become now,
I can carry a murderer’s soul upon my strong shoulders.
I’m used to being abused now, I consider it my nourishment
To watch my only love cut into my wrists to kill me in spite.
But yet I’ll keep on loving him
While he ignites my living body into a fitful fever.
The march of every heartbeat echoes through my delirium,
And I reside in a waterless well of the suffering worms of Hades.
This is my world, my universe, this is my realm
I’m the weeping poet of suppressed love.