Bonfires
“They make a desolation and call it peace.”
– Agha Shahid Ali
When we were nothing we loved
them so much our bodies broke, nothing
remained to love back even for once;
today we are four letters, uncanny and
still in love; we are shadows, quiet
and together, and when the sun’s lucky
we’re hardly visible; the nights observe
us burning, our lips trembling, silent
and yet nothing crackles. When we
stand to reason, they burn half a country
down, merely, for the sake of names;
when the bonfire spans storeys, they
gather in the streets and chant again. We
are still nothing, and we flicker like
dying flames; when they stand we’re not
heard, our words untrustworthy, our
bodies only soil and salt. We’re still
nothing, but always more than a lie,
always no less than truth.
Very Very Very nice poem. God Bless You.
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