Seasons of Grief

As winter ends,

in Kashmir.

God envelopes grief

to overpower the deceitful spring.

And spring eventually

is cut short into summer.

Summer melts

overflowing into Autumn.

And Autumn slows

the coming of another winter.

Human time flows

to and fro in seasons of grief.

But how much of time

is too much of grief?

It rains madly

in every season.

And our boundaries become blurred

as we carry maps of each other.

We cross and sometimes infiltrate

only to see and hide

what is present and yet absent.

With a heart

of remembering and forgetting,

all too many seasons is too much grief.

Unwritten Words

On my shore,

the tides of you

water the absence.

The ripples

storm the moonlight


Only to disappear

and appear back

with a fresh breeze.

The musical silence

drowns me like

a resting shipwreck-

before the waves

of the thousand

unwritten words

anchor on a safe surface.

Elsewhere on Critical Muslim: