Posted by: Ron DuBour | March 17, 2018

(TO THE GHOSTS OF MY PAST)~by Umer Qureshi




This is to the planet that has long been cursed;
14 billion years, a drama well rehearsed;
Each and every misery so perfectly crafted & so well versed;

This is to the miseries that I have already cried;
To my sand written wishes that all washed away with this worldly tide;
To my fake words that I used as my hide;
To the left over parts of me where still some traces of sanity reside;

This is to the responsible man I’m yet to be;
To being slave to the limits set by this society;
To their remaining social norms to which I’m yet to succumb;
To the left over feelings which will soon be numb;

This is to my thoughts that I failed to give any word;
To my thoughts that sometimes I pretended that I never heard;
To all those thoughts that I know they are yet not ready to hear;
To all those fears that dripped down as my tears;

This is to the place in me deep down;
To my sanctuary, my old town;
The place where I wallow in my tears, it’s where I mourn;
To the only place where my existence is known;
Has no name but belongs to me, the one that I own;

This is to the ghosts of my past;
Not to me, but to my words that will last;
And to the mysteries of tomorrow on whom this curse will itself cast;
To the debris of me in my art;
To my remaining slums that’ll tell the story of how I fell apart.


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