THE GUILTY SUN
To muffle the noise of Lahore, it closes its eyes,
Takes a deep breath and submerges
Into the ocean far away. Guilty, today
The sun sheds a tear for it couldn't hide away
Mere curiosity so the sun followed
A man with unequal proportions that showed
More brimming sweat and sorrows than flesh
More tar and mud than color on his dress,
Soaked bills crushed in his palm were exchanged
For a cigarette. A man under a sign that said
“Ik chars duja ishq sada marz”
He smiled, lit it, said Bismillah like its farz
The more the sun followed him, the farther
it got from the cool cotton cloud cover.
Curled with dust and traffic poison, dried by smokes
His hair fluttered with his ragged frail clothes
Shifting his cigarette into his last two fingers
He wiped his face with the palm of his hands
His heart while walking ,was fixed on that red marble bench
Under a tree, both advertising for lessons in French.
The sun shone brighter to peep through the leaves.
It needed to know this man better, it believed
Under the smoky fumes and red eyes, his skin
Dark and creased, gratefulness etched above his chin.
Immersed in the high of his last inhale,
He lies on the bench and exhales.
Here lies his heaven if only the sun were merciful.
For the marble, the space the numbness he was grateful
WELL
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