In Hate with Goodbyes

Written by a friend who shared her love for Saqi with me in those days of playfulness and pain...)

Oh Saqi, I need your assistance tonight,
Filled with sorrow, my heart needs your jug by its side
You should save me, if grief tries to hold me too tight
Oh Saqi, I need your assistance tonight.

Oh Saqi, you were there to share my joy,
You were there when I had to dance off the night
You had taught me that laughter belongs to the right
So Saqi, I need your assistance tonight

Oh Saqi, you were there to share my fear
You were there when I learnt running a kite
You helped me to trim off the fear and fight
But Saqi, I need your assistance tonight

Oh Saqi, will you help me to get through the storm?
Are you here? Think we can sail on with no sight?
Please make sure the jug is full through the night!
I better sink in it, and rather drop out of sight
So Saqi… I need your assistance tonight!



My Reply to her

Darling…
Let me hold you tight…
For…
Today your cup overflows,
Not with wine, but with tears.
There is only one rule in this game, my love
Hold on tight
To your cup
Drink deeply whatever it holds
Then…
Wine tastes like tears
And tears like wine.

Love and Equality

She did not love him.
Yet, her sorrow was making her cling to him.
To keep him from leaving her to face her deep loneliness
She was uncovering her womanliness
Dazzling him for a quick second
Catching him like a prey.
Knowing full well the futility of playing woman
She was still performing that old story.

Yet for him...
She was drawn to him
Like a moth into a flame.
He remained, the powerful watcher
The male animal
Who waits, watches and then pounces...
At that moment
A record of all his conquests
Would replay in his mind
Giving him an empty feeling of power
While...
It would make her feel drained and suicidal.

After the night of empty conquest
Both returned to their respective loneliness
He to the silence of his power
She, to the silence of her humiliation.

Yet...they both pretended
They were equals in an unequal world

Families

Families are places
where words spill out
like old, festering wounds
they reek out centuries of vomit, spit, semen
And…of course…Blood.

Rejection

Years ago,
Her youth loved his vast, expansive maleness
Which had roamed the world
Known it, tasted it, and retained it
In his lilting walk, and blazing eyes.

Today,
She was experienced
With many sorrows
That had sedimented over
His rejection of her
That happened
Years ago.

When ever he saw her
He relived his youth
Its foolish and brash power
To reject.

That moment,
of absolute power,
of rejection and abandonment,
Would replay in his mind
For years and years...

She became a mythical figure in his mind

For...he knew he was being cowardly
He knew he could not take her,
Her sharp gaze and her sharper tongue
Which was fragile in front of him now
But, which could turn to hit him hard...

Thus...he had taken the power which he did not feel
To return her gift of herself.