Poems by
Nashrat Jahan


a poem by Nashrat Jahan

We met when your russet eyes acquainted light
Storm raged outside
So did you
How could someone look adorably at a tiny little throat screeching?
Duh! 4.8 million year old existence
And you, another failed pawn of universe’s probability
Yet you dreamt like pawns dream
You envisaged of becoming the queen.

So, the universe stole light from your russet eyes
Turned them rather achromatic
Robbed you of your pretty white dress
Later turned red.

But, clenched you did to that one heirloom
The royal wonders of ink spots on tree-barks
And you realised you wouldn’t need to scream
But, just sit down, discover your voice,
Find it, soothe it, pen it down.

Years passed, (by this time, I clenched your lil-finger once or twice)
In embarrassing, fulfilling, mysterious, mischievous ways
You resorted to giving people a chance
And they resorted on making you regret.

From being picked up on shoulders from rosy thorny-bushes to
Been thrown on ash piles
Covers your journey from hope to lies.
Plot twist
A journey taken several times.

Pilgrimage was it?
A path to salvation?
Finally glass moulding into a certain perfect radiance
Or just another deception by destiny?
Who knew?

Or maybe I did
I did and I veiled it.
For who actually knew?
That future would be aired on universe’s very screen like a day-dream
One with glitter-winged fairies
Butterflies and candy gardens.

Little, foolish girl
You thought yourself to be those beautiful birds one to be condemned in Picasso’s art?
Beautiful you might have been
Beautiful but broken.
However, only aesthetic is considered art.
You were the firefly
You burned to keep your realm alive.
The price you paid
Burnt yourself you did
That’s when we meet again

You saw through my eyes
How you weren’t burnt
But set on fire.
Fire consumed in wrath
Firefly to Phoenix.
Once again under treachery’s command
Fogged was the battlefield
Shot were betrayal’s arrows
Stabbed was your tender back.

The phoenix breathed its last.
Only to rise from its ashes
Tiny-throat, remember?
That tiny-timid throat oppressed to not speak
Blinded to dark-shade
Collected radiant pieces of shattered confidence
Turned them into pride, power, desire