Month: December 2015

This poem is for a widow, who still waits for a sudden knock on the door.

Yesterday

I saw a woman

walking gently,

each step placed

with care

on the floor.

I asked her

, are you well ‘Purê?’

A sour smile,

covered her face

bitter tears

burnt her cheeks

The flame in her heart

heated her body

“20 years ago

a laughing dêw

buried my husband

and child

under this very ground.

And now

each step I take

feels like

putting my feet

on their body

alive.

Sarwa A       January 2016

I want to dream. Maybe it is the only way that I can be free. Or maybe it is the way I was taught. Someday dreams might come true. That is what my grandma has always been telling me. Bless her. She died and the magic of the dream was still fresh on her face.