Cut off from the fountains of the earth
I cry out my pain to the heavens
Like vapour, my pain rises
From my heart, which is a furnace.
Surrounded by coconut tree monsters
Sleep through unhappy childhoods.
On mornings, when it is too cold
To pray or not to pray
I rise, man with creaking bones
And find that
The sun, has a flawed personality.
My heart is Muslim.
My life shrinks into me
And prayer becomes death.
Even the dogs have lost faith in me.
My eyes are Christian.
Over a garden of withered roses
Years implode into seconds
And every second,
Men come for namaz on Diwali day
With the light of crackers
In their hearts.
My hands are Hindu.
A handful of seeds flung into the courtyard
Pray for forgiveness
My brain is afraid.
I stare at the sun till I go blind
And my pain spangle the evening sky
Rising, with music
A sigh here and a sigh there
To seed clouds,
Bursting with sunlight.
And I wait, for rains
To come down,
With songs of the heaven.