Poetry

FC photo

By

Safia Izhar

I am

Me?

I am..?

I do exist?

Hands, feet, eyes, ears, tongue

I just realized that I, literally, completely forgot

that my body has a soul that belongs to me – it’s my possession

yet my remarkably vague memory forgot my identity,

life, individuality, soul, meaning, purpose

I found that

I am

Me.

Broken Room

It’s a room – there’s the ceiling and the floor,

Left, right, front, back – together yet no more.

All six connected, yet void fills in,

Daily some paint shed, bricks break, evil spirits drill in.

Water seeping through nooks and corners, hope brushed.

Envy attacks, existing void more ambushed.

Day by day, falls one brick after brick,

The outsider smiles, one trick after trick.

Following the room garnered with ultimate decadence,

It’s over! A Final collapse. Envy’s face is in evanescence.

With a fleeting look at the broken room, the enemy fakes a cry.

Alone, it whistles in ecstasy, tears of mirth are cleaned dry.

Safia Izhar

I am Safia Izhar. I am a freelancer and am currently doing my Mphil in English Literature.