Nawal Naz Tareque
The room is way too empty now.
The boom from the helicopter echoes
Along with a thousand other:
Bouts of laughter
Strums of a jumbo plucked (rougher than usual)
But silence the weight of a
Coffin lays bare.
They all come;
They all go-
What do we do with skies so blue?
Snippets of it permeate the hive minds
Bound by the language of misfits
And you’ve got a perfect group of nerds
Hard to find (these days).
Resting their heads on a cool seat in Doha
The warrior laying after a hard battle in air
Anxiety drains away but,
The emptiness, the pang, the roaring thunder
Locked inside a prism of fear
Floating and colliding with the walls but unable to
Escape and reach those she seeks.
Here and now the phantoms come
“Come back to us! Don’t let go!”
But you push aside the chair and let the
Rope do the rest
So you burn your heart to ashes,
Hope they scatter far and wide among the moondust
And then you gallop towards the unknown
With everything and nothing of yours.