Rock and Sea

Rock, and stone, and hill. The first step I take, into the air- I know this air. The first step I take, onto the ground- and I know this ground. This salt, this earth, this dry, cracked dust, this is what I learnt to stand in. This parched sky is what i took my first breath to. This tract of land, shunned and forgotten, is what I walked out of, the last truly happy days my childlike mind would know. This is the ocean, that let me sail away. This is the shore, that brought me back. And every night, where I sailed the restless seas of the night in the ship my dreams builds, I’d come home to rest.

No, my country. I am coming back to you- but I was never away…

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Wisdom 

If I knew any better, I’d see you starry eyed.  
Instead of laughing at your wit and sharing our mutual disparagement of an abundance of topics, instead of reading your work out loud in my head as I know you do mine, and having the full satisfaction of understanding as much as being understood, of being as hopeless and defeated a romantic as me- of being as defeated by your own intellect and perception as me- instead of the realization of these things, if only I had wonder instead, I could love you. I would love you. I would love you with the potency of our singleminded writing, the intensity of furrowed brows stringing words in breathing sequence, in the light of quiet sunsets of two people who understand- god, who understand! I could love you- I could! 

If only I could.  

I look at you, as you look at me. Two people who should but are plainly not meant to be. We stand on two neighboring shores, you chasing your ocean and me, drowning in mine. We hold hands in our solitude, both alone together, with love to find, and love to divine.  

Till another time,

Cookie ❤ 

So Much White Noise 


Symphonies and melodies. Crescendos awash, the shores of my mind are inundated in the salty spray of your laughter. It is not kind. You are… not kind today. But you are always beautiful, the kind of beautiful that blots out the sun and makes the moon shamefacedly turn away. And you smile, so sweet that the music playing around us reduces to much white noise. The world except the space between us, is undefined space. The few inches between our hands, an expectant canvas. I inch my hesitant fingers, stained with hopeful colors, forward to you. Dare I mark you, the way you’ve already marked me? I almost do. I almost touch you- but you do not let me begin my masterpiece. You laugh, and the images come crashing down, and you return my broken fingers to me. 
I hear glass tinkling, and you chuckling sardonically. I hear my happiness. The rest is just so much white noise.

Becoming 


It will hurt. 

It will be a burden. 

It will pain your bones to 

carry your thoughts 

-it will lessen 

You will endure 

You will survive 

Bent is not broken 

– It’s okay to have been numb 

But you’re alive 

And you’re fighting 

And you will

Become 

-y 

Blood Music 

I knew a man with laughing eyes 

Who thought the world could sing 

And in keeping with his philosophy 

He did everything 

He could, to make even the mute cry 

The seeing would go blind, not to see 

The songs people sang to for him 

Scarred their voices permanently

I knew that man with laughing eyes 

Too well, oh 

Too well 

And if only I could sing again 

Oh, the tales I would tell

But I left him, to his bone music 

Not far but far enough behind 

And ran into another man, headlong 

Who’d been waiting for me some time 

And he didn’t mind, my grave like eyes 

And the blood music in my head 

He’d learnt from a girl with laughing eyes 

That it’s better to have ones that are dead 

Now this man with dead eyes holds my hand 

And my lifeless ones sparkle too 

And it doesn’t matter, that we don’t sing out loud 

Because we have hearts that do 

© yusra 

18.06.2017