[ultimate_heading main_heading=”Sana Asif *Featured Poet* – Issue.XXI : October 2016 ” main_heading_color=”#1e73be” sub_heading_color=”#8224e3″ spacer=”line_with_icon” spacer_position=”bottom” line_style=”dotted” line_height=”1″ line_color=”#1e73be” icon_type=”custom” icon_img=”id^48|url^http://ashvamegh.net/wp-content/uploads/2015/10/Ashvamegh-ICO.jpg|caption^null|alt^Ashvamegh Journal Icon|title^Ashvamegh ICO|description^null” img_width=”48″ main_heading_style=”font-weight:bold;” main_heading_font_size=”desktop:34px;” line_width=”3″ margin_design_tab_text=””]she unfolds it with folds…[/ultimate_heading]

Introduction to the Poet:

Sana Asif‘Sana is a 21-year-old student, doing her graduation in English Literature from Patna University. She calls herself an avid reader. She writes poems and short-stories in English, loves to write in Urdu as well. She started writing poems when she was still in her primary school, but it was her husband who persuaded her for publication. Recently, she has started to publish her work on her website sanaasifkaukab.wordpress.com.

 

 

 

A Final Good-Bye

 

I know you will never, but

if it could happen, just happen

that you and I were together

for one more day, one more time,

one last moment

and we would just sit together

silently together.

Eyes would tell the infinite feelings

and the untold words.

Happiness and tears would flow

together

to make a memory

of the last meeting,

to remember and to be remembered.

A final good-bye,

unless

destiny would again let us meet

as strangers,

complete strangers.

 

 

Silence

 

In a deep pensive mood,

I often think

should words be replaced by silence

or silence should be taken as words.

Quite difference they make.

“Speak”.

They say.

Why should I if I not will.

Silence is suggestive,

words are hard like rock;

Silence is different, often awkward

uneasiness, discomfort,

quiet like Sunday morning

or eerie dead of night.

Silence has sound, no one hears.

It has meanings undeciphered.

Silently it says of unheard feelings, words.

Silently it silences itself.

 

 

Lines Written For My Husband

(Translation, originally written in Urdu)

 

Listen,

you are not here with me,

Even your voice is unavailable to be heard.

Months have passed without seeing you.

The pupil of my eyes have melted waiting for you.

But

why in the air

I can feel your smell,

like a shadow something walks with me,

my poems have started smiling.

Perhaps,

the day of your arrival is coming soon.

 

The Time

 

Time passes, always does.

Slowly it heals,

the wound it itself gives.

Silently

it turns on page

Of the calendar bought every year.

Time heals, scar remains.

Moving on and on

everyday;

as new as morning,

as dead as night,

all seasons, all clime.

Time passes, always does.

 

 

Darkness

Darkness
be my witness!

 

 

 

The Unattainable

 

Agony,

tears,

unrest.

craving for a place

close yet far far away.

Leaping, jumping, racing,

walking, strolling, crawling.

Mine yet not mine,

slips by an inch,

loses by a foot.

still same same same.

Reach and out of reach.

Empty hand,

moves back,

closing fist,

opening fist,

despair to Hope

hope to Despair.

Sigh,

whisper,

speak,

shout,

cry,

right into the ear.

Vacuum.

Ah luck!