The Gale Poem by Prof Niamat Ali Murtazai

A gale like my dispersed, confused, mad thoughts,
Runs helter-skelter like storm-ridden boats.
The ill-mannered dust makes heads its harbor
And falls just like rainy season's shower.
It blinds my eyes that can't see in future
Endless anxiety bursts at its rapture.
It seems to be an old aunt of wild storm
That follows no civilization's norm.
She looks like Hamlet's revengeful pale ghost
Who wants to get back some thing precious lost.
It seems she has seen Ophelia's funeral
Or Spring's sad suicide in days vernal.
Or her own cherished marriage draws near
Or she has run amuck with some fear.
Only the mad can understand her mind
Because she seems to be of the same kind.
Or the drunkards can know her deep secret
Who their benefits graciously reject.
She seems to be the agent of Furies
Who follow the culprit by law's juries.
Or she is man's mere meaninglessness
Or she embodies unfortunateness.
Just like the "Abyssinian maid" searches
Her ‘demon lover' lost in bulrushes.
Or like a kind old dame removes hotness
Who in no way else her love can express.
Whatever she is she is nature's agent
Who in emergency brings something pleasant.
She take us centuries back to age of cave
When this man was absolutely nature's slave.
But nowadays man has become cultured
His hands, unlike of past, are not fettered.
Now gales should also be civilized
In this way Time can be surprised.