The wind never talked to me but she used to always tickle my stomach while I’d laugh like a maniac when I was a little kid. Sure, I had never heard her but she was my best friend. I think we both understood each other way better than most people would. They never heard me and similarly she had been rushing past deaf people all her life. Sometimes, we’d just sit quietly and look at all the people raving endlessly about things that never made much sense to either of us. I still remember the way she raged against my bare back that day. She carried my screams all the way down to the basement but no one came. She raged endlessly while my confused senses called hormones started to run and hide in blazing terror. He said he could hear the wind too but he lied. I know this because he never saw her drop the wooden tool box on his head as he ripped my dress apart, he never saw her until his head was smashed open and he lay on the cold bedroom floor, looking up at her big fluorescent eyes and illuminating body; he murmured something before death carried him far, far away from me (us). I think he said my mother’s name, our mother.
-Nameera Anjum Khan.
The name that spells doom
Men bowing their heads low
To a woman’s whims
Forgetting the everlasting fruit
Mother Isis promises
Upon the cursed tongues
Her name appears in times of
The name that speaks of hell
And a deathless punishment
From the curves of she, who
Neither grieves nor loves,
Becomes the lore of
Utter agony and revenge
Love is nothing more than an irony
And the biggest of them all
Comes from between a
Woman’s thighs where
Men find temporary
Forever leaving the
Permanent shrine of truth
Shutting off all spaces for the
Light to come through until the
Mystery engulfs life and settles
Between your rotten bones, masking
Itself as an eternity of blackness, of death.
This poem was inspired from a character from one of my recent reads ‘Cleopatra’ by H. Rider Haggard who has a brilliant and unique way of story-telling. It’s an amazing tale of Harmachis, the lost prince & a priest, who is on a quest to get back his rightful ownership of the land of Egypt but first, he’ll have to overthrow the current monarch, Cleopatra and to do that, he has to make sure to not fall victim to her charms and beauty.
All in all, It’s an impeccable story, an absorbing read for someone like me.
The tale unfolds through the papyrus rolls that have been recently discovered by an archeologist. It goes on as a translation of three of those ancient rolls written by the doomed prince himself, Harmachis.