Taking my roots off
Taking my roots off
Mother has a beautiful girl
The sky my colourful shawl
The mirror with all its glittering
Owes me a mouthful of smile
A lump in my throat
Worried of the salty food
Ever know the feeling
A free woman has
When forced
A free woman when forced
To give herself to a man
She doesn’t long for?
A man whose response
To a smile
If ever, Is silence?
A free woman who understands
Life is not jubilant at all
So much longing she has
Not for sex and bearing sons though.
Should she feel sorry
for a husband
With no work
An ailing mother
A brother in despair
Or like the father’s burning cigarette?
Razors yearning the taste of her lips
Friends running after her
dagger in hand.
The pills no more ease her fever
The moon no more
On the veranda at night
Decadent she is called
For the cigarette she smokes.
No cuddle of love
Leaning on a scarecrow
Combing a doll’s hair
To quench her motherly urge.
Suddenly, tired of all
Hand in hand with madness
Breaks the Afghan honor
Runs out of the house.
Waiting people to accuse
Waiting wolves outside the door
Darkened road in wait
Danger across road in road
Waiting for her, no one.
Running to dig her own grave
Behind the unfinished poem
Coiling in a corner
And fast asleep
Closed is the kitchen.
Too long is this worthless tale
Splashing water on her face
Wearing a dress of ivies
Lipstick of deep rose.
The wind combing my hair
Two birds fly from my collar
Dancing like a butterfly
Taking all the old roots out.