Written by Burhan

The old granny again hugged the muddy stairs
on the edge of Jehlum, reckoning the ruins of
her rusting womb.

Wood ashes on head and eye lashes pouring
ash made a Dervish to come along a child
juggling her own tears.

Decades gone, I still watch them and my eyes
portray me there - with pen in hand and
papers sinking in...


© Burhan 2021