The stones were empty inside.
The surface looked like wood logs,
hollow, and the marble statues, a few years
old, and broken. The acropolis was like
a cemetery. The heart longed for, and far away.
Some loved ones had been remembered. This time
is like a courageous embrace of the trees without leaves.
Inside a lotus flower, some names imprinted. Beneath
the empty ponds, like barren wombs, desires had died,
with their fish bone skeletons. A deep dug door was closed,
hard with hinges. Sparrows and crows were looking for nests.
The forest without trees, and the air, was like the bouncy hips
of a walking girl. Like a mare with thick mane, dancing and running.
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Comments about this poem (One Evening by Sadiqullah Khan )
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