A Soundless City
It was a soundless city
It was a soundless city
As it happened, a strange event
took place there.
Far off in a forest, behind the pine grove,
In the cypress branches was born a cuckoo bird.
Born she was, and grew she did in the shade of
the shadows, enjoying the warmth of her mother’s
bosom, and just nobody knew.
A day came when she learnt to hop, learning to hop
she learnt to fly and fly she did up in the air.
Excited at seeing the vastness of the earth and the sky,
She sang and in her full-throated song it seemed as
if the sky and the earth merged.
Time moved on and it so happened
That the cypress also heard the
Cuckoo’s song.
Frightened and trembling, in fright, shedding
Its green leaves, said a lot and did a lot.
It tried to convince the cuckoo as not to
overdo her song, asking her to hide herself
But she in her excitement declined.
She flew in pride, singing to her heart’s content.
She flew to different avenues, over the mountains
And beautiful gardens, over the greenery and the
Lush pastures new; unmindful till the burning news
Of her being reached the city.
They say the cypress tree itself was cut, destroyed
And chained. They enquired of her whereabouts
Saying you know, you are aware, this is a soundless city.
There is a ban on joyful chatter. Either be banned or be
Punished. Why did you allow her space to build her nest;
Why did you allow her to sing? This is a soundless city
This is a soundless city.
Destination, unknown
I entered the garden
Through the open gate
I saw no barriers
It was a strange scene
Stunned was my sight
Frozen my foot-step
This was not that garden
Neither that place
Nor its beauty
Neither the flower
Nor it's wandering scent
The blossom of my heart
Shed its petals-no tears,
No sigh but just a deep
Internal lingering pain.
Through restrained my
Dwindling faith and
Perceptions and reality were
In conflict
Gaining strength, but still
In fear, feigning sympathy
I questioned thus_
The tulip I asked: why
Did the pain not show?
It replied the scar is visible
I asked the wind the reason
For the fearful hurry. It
Replied that the evil one was
In search of him.
I asked the rose the cause
Of the missing scent, "autumn
Scared it away", replied he
Why the anger? I asked the spring
It replied it had
Oozing wounds
The door beckoned
And I left,
Ever since I wander
Aimlessly,
Naseem Shafaie is a noted poet
(This appeared in the print as 'Neither A Shadow Nor A Reflection')
