I wrote to her sacrilege
Toasted haram
She, an idol among dregs
I, a totem in her palm
Love lifts on rose scent
leaving petals to quiver
all between us once, rent,
only kindling to give her
Hence, I turn to death
which best knows life
and set fire to my nest
For guiding torchlight
to illuminate the path
on my way home
to weep love ere I die,
For writing this poem.
NOTE:
Go down dark and deep beloveds
it’s good to go to those dark places within,
it’s there that we burn
and into that fire,
we dip our torches
to light our way out again.
go blind in your own light
and descend,
for many a stirred soul
will sway and rustle
in the same divine wind;
and all this
to fill the spirit’s silent wing
by which your voice ascends.
