Just A Sunrise And Those Birds Flying Poem by Sibghatullah Khan

What can I say, dear friend?
You frustrate me so much
each time when you hold out
a promise crying. You talk of Sisyphus
and glorify dying. With a perfect timing,
You slither in blues every two weeks,
and what you call angst grows on you
like mushrooms on a garbage heap.

You read out to me many a smart way,
foolproof recipes to call it a day.
Then you list up your preferences
and quote many references. ‘Indeed those
who blazed the trail for the likes
of you did it but to give way, ' I say.
‘That is the quintessence of action, ' you hold,
‘a modus operandi for perfection of the bold.'

I sit back and sulk every fortnight;
and with a heavy heart grope my way
back to life, as is my wont. And then you come
back calm, as you always do, neatly dressed,
hair done up. This time, you surprise me:
firmly lifting your coffee-cup, you half-smile.
‘seeing the sunrise is so beautiful, ' you say,
‘and birds flying across in search of their day.'

What can I say, my friend?
You frustrate me so much:
I wonder, just a sunrise and those birds flying
Could keep you from giving way and crying!