This Biography
My heart beat fast or did not beat at all; I could not say all that I thought and thought till words deserted me. I loved too abstractly. I dreaded how all there was to give was me— like water, this biography. I unravelled far too easily then fled to selfish deserts and slept on the hardest rocks. I couldn’t make what others made and broke and broke and made, that sweet choreography. I went alone and missed the world continually. I misread smiles; I stuttered before open arms, but time passed too fast for disappointment’s imprint on the glass of memory. I sought the future even when the blood swirled now, I let the past decide too greedily. I kept searching out the window, I tried to stay half hidden by the light.
Anjum Hasan
July 2008 |