May 24, 2022
 |  44 Comments

I sought to adhere to set of rules laid out
by society;
to discern essentials with the help of naked eye,
just so I could howl along,
they called to me, but I wonder,
now as the moon competes with the sun,
how to tell if the system’s rotten?
How to tell between consensus and chili peppers,
knowing, both, peel the same way?

The answer, of course, lies somewhere
at the end of it, heaving, and bobbing for air—
it accommodates itself to our interests,
flattening its sides,
as a chattering of choughs go overhead,
as though bits of burnt
paper smudging a clear blue sky;
theirs is the only voice that protests, that cries,
while the rest are stunned,
they believe they are in heaven—
not a single fraction of their formerly untainted
selves remaining.

And now a clattering of jackdaws joins the scene;
blending with
grasses, with bamboo
and bulrushes in hue of a sombre afternoon,
as if understanding this feeling,
some days it mocks us,
and other days, it lets us speak the truth,
to voice our concerns,
I am holding them, still moist from the pen.

The bold soul of a Poet can seduce one into
silent submission,
can fuse dream into reality as a scold of jays
observe from a distance,
as bonfires green smolder without comment,
we will no longer stand corruption,
no longer stain our lips with silence—
now that we have come to comprehend; now
that we have come to comprehend,
as one-way traffic,
as loose confetti, falling ash and murder of crows—
you can either opt to join or be swept away
by the tide; the choice is yours.

 

 

 

#PTI🇵🇰 #IMRANKHAN, #LONGMARCH, #REVOLUTION

Photo credits: Joseph Zbukvic Watercolor Painting, Pinterest

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Posted for Poetics: Corvid Poetry @dVerse Poets Pub