.. 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.
But..
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.
Yes,
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.

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