You Want To Know How I Feel? Poem by Zaffar Qureshi

You want to know how I feel?
A lump of dust is stuck in my dry throat,
a knife stuck voluntarily in my throbbing head,
I have to drink around it,
and I have to think around it.
I feel the wind screeching,
I feel the sky's blue bleaching,
I feel the leaves withering away,
I feel the plucking of flowers,
I feel the silence of the night,
I feel the footsteps of an approaching predator,
I feel everything,
I see
and
everything that I don't.
I sit alone,
in places forlorn,
places that don't have mirrors
away from the world,
away from myself.
I hate looking into a mirror,
(I don't like to acknowledge my existence with such certainty.)
You're right, all of you,
what you say, makes perfect sense.
But I saw a broken rose bud on the ground,
I held itclose to my heart and cried,
trying not to look at the roses that bloomed,
or ask myself why.
I don't knowwhy the bud fell,
I don't know why leaves fall and die,
I don't know why the sky cries so often here,
I don't know why the sun's so angry,
I don't know why the ocean wouldn't talk to anyone,
I don't know why the river wouldn't sit still,
I don't know anything,
but I never ask them.
Because I know they're hurt,
I know how they feel.
So when I was little,
and the earth shook and broke,
and everyone prayed,
I didn't ask it to stop.
You want to know how I feel?
I feel hurt.
Hold me and cry,
and don't ask me why.