.. Of wine and cemeteries

 in my grave
There’s a wine I had drunk without you;
lying between two tombstones in my cemetery.
This weight of soil,
pinning my body to the earth
like an anchor on a sea-bed
has now become my sojourning Tavern.
I sit with Ghalib and drink all night.
I lament with Rumi and whirl till dawn.
Each time I see your face;
shuddering and shivering
through the empty night sky,
I fly to you…
I fly to you, like a drunken kite —
swaying from side to side.
even with my clay tethered to the ground,
I am still drawn to you,
.. like an anvil to iron
.. like an ebb tide to moon.
~ IZ ~


* Ghalib: eighteenth century, popular Urdu poet. Rumi: thirteenth century famous poet and Sufi mystic.

9 thoughts on “.. Of wine and cemeteries

  1. We all deal with loss in our own ways. Poetry and wine seem befitting companions for such a deep and connected soul. Just because we lose them doesn’t mean they are gone entirely. Beautiful poetry with an ache that resonates.

  2. Only an akin-pulse as mine would recognise such aches.. P, you taking the time to leave these significant words here means much. I shall return to this comment of yours many times, I am sure. Thank you!

    Indeed, the wine of “Ishq” and poetry of “Ashiq” are both the poison and antidote, at times.

    1. Yes, they are both thus. No matter where we are from and how different we may be, the potential for such ache exists within all of us.

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