The Dream is Born Again

In this cold night

Stars talk in murmurs,

Of distant wounded autumns

Youthful rebel summers

And deep, silent winters.

Of spring they know only a February dawn

When the Moon is cold of morning breeze

And her eyes are dry

Like the sands of Baghdad –

Her face still

As the old pillars of Cairo,

Gaze? A cold stone in Gaza.

And breath, a gasping heart of Sopore.

 

She, a shahid – eternal witness –

Of a tandav

Crushing and ruthless

… … … … … … …

Jasmine…sublime white….dies

A gleaming pearl trembles,

Shivers

Shrouds itself in steam

And breaks

In her frozen eyes

In the heart of Wullar

The quiet of Jhelum

The blue of Neelum

 

– A numbing silence

Longer than the promised day.

 

When the dawn cracks

Through the dense heavens

Kashmir is the night of Baghdad,

The heart of Gaza

And heavy as the Nile

………………………………………………….

The night is cold

Stars return to their hearth

She whispers near her ancient gate

“The dream is born again…the dream is born again”

 

Muhammad Tahir

 

—student of International Peace Studies 

(IRP) at IUJ, Japan

—contact: mtahirfiraz@gmail.com

 

One Response to "The Dream is Born Again"

  1. Aijaz   February 14, 2014 at 7:12 am

    Lovely written… So imaginative n artistic… Superb