The healer!

Shall I not devote my heart,

To the One who holds the mountains firm,

And a myriad of stars in perfect constellations..

For my heart is made of glass..

With a thousands cracks running through..

-Hira Chaudhry

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Behold

Been to the mountains of Everest,

and grasses evergreen..

My mother’s wrinkled hands,

the prettiest sight

I’ve ever seen..

Elastic hearts

They walk around the streets,

Wearing perfume on their sleeves..

Looking to share everything but trust,

Laughing for hours but crying first..

Holding hands but shadows apart,

With bodies of stone and elastic hearts..

©Hira Chaudhry

© Image courtesy: Fine art America

Paint..

The color of your soul, is precisely what my darkness seeks..

The compelling strokes of your brush, creating wild ocean peaks..

These cravings that evoke me, more than I’d like to confess..

The touch of your fingertips, for my body is your canvas..

Segregated

Born with lips so beautiful, but couldn’t utter a word..

Sitting for hours at the window watching the one-legged bird..

Bullied at the school for being so eccentric..

Abused by father for always being a skeptic..

On a mid summer holiday, escaping from the sun..

In grandma’s little cottage, he found a red violin..

They pushed him to the corners for his words were inapprehensible..

The more his fingers and the strings became inseparable..

A boy once running in circles for hours..

Found peace in his violin and the blooming of flowers..

They couldn’t understand him so he was segregated…

Not leaving him alone, now that his music was appreciated..

Closing all the doors behind, shutting out the universe..

All he wanted was the love he felt in singing a verse…

P.S. To all those young beautiful minds suffering from childhood Psychological disorders and the Autism spectrum.. Let’s try to stretch a hand towards them, before they lose faith in humanity and isolate themselves from a world full of opportunities.. Every child deserves to be loved and appreciated the way he is.

©Hira Chaudhry

Image courtesy: Wandalin Strzałecki – The Violinist

Monkey-master!

When I was a kid I saw a man in my street every day, they called him the “monkey master”.

He’ll tell his little monkey friend and he’ll dance and walk and laugh and clap. And all the kids will laugh with him..

As my childhood disappeared, so did the monkey master.. I kept wondering where did he go, what happened to him?

Years later I saw him, in an interview by a local reporter. Showing him gradually dying of poverty, as people don’t watch the monkey shows anymore. Some find it dangerous, some think it’s cruel, some say it’s unacceptable to have animals dancing around the streets. Crowds and gatherings need special permissions due to possibility of terrorist activities, etc.

They asked him, if he can do something else to make money..

He said, ” I learnt some woodwork and became a carpenter but couldn’t make as much of a living, because that’s not where my heart lies.

My monkey was my little baby, my best friend. We ate together, danced together, cried together. Every night I fell asleep thinking of all the new things we’ll learn to do together..

People don’t like to watch shows like that anymore, but that’s what I am good at. That’s all I know.. That’s what I did all my life. I don’t know how to be otherwise, be someone else.”

I realized I feel the same.. people don’t love these days, some find the term eternal love as unacceptable and preposterous. Some think it’s dangerous and even overrated, but that’s all I know. I can’t do otherwise whether someone wants it or not.. All I have is “love” to give and share.. I am like the monkey master, will I die suffering too? Just like him…

Borders

They say they created borders, to divide the land..

To make it secure..

Ironic, they ended up dividing the people..

Making love obscure..