Lahore 2 am and pm
To the walled city that chooses to suffocate me.
With its oil drenched ropes. An epiphany,
It's rising smoke and slag that slithers in streets.
A tryst in cursed air, here a plethora of sweat meets.
Sieved home for termites, my wooden doors that
Guard repulsive expressions and bruised hearts of tyrant
Lovers. What city grows wretched touches to endure and powers to inure?
She's draped in a crimson shawl. Violated her embroidered flowers so pure
With palms drenched in frustration. A pristine scandal,
They call her, orange doodles that drop sugar. Blame her sandal
That abandoned the sole of her mehndi painted feet. She, a lullaby
Tossed and turned like black chickpeas, in.ریت . Why this easily?
Gather these walls in your fists, its collars pulled
Did they shake or crumble. Idyllic, indolent iron gates gawked
Alas! They corrupted sunlight with translucent coloured windows,
Neons and dull lights into their temples. Glorify now its sorrow.
Ma tells me about Iblees more tha Eves' prayers.
Ablassa, yablissoo, fahuwa ibleesun. She translates:
"Mayoos huwa, mayoos hota hai, wo jo mayoos huwa hai"
Clenches my hand and plants Plumeria trees of hope. Serendipity,
Is not close to Tawakkul, i learn. But mayoosi kabhi Khuda se na thi.
This city and its silent walls, no longer painted with valor
But pan spits like an allergy pattern and bricks that fracture.
They then called every other of their own beti, a curse, 'beizzati'
Aren't you ashamed to tell the ones free from these walls "وہ جمیا نیں"?
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