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

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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..

Restless

Hold my hand and run away,

Far from the city lights..

To spend a night in the forest,

Hear the birds sing a lullaby..

To watch the wild game of survival,

As the little deer learns to fight..

See the rain kiss the earth,

An anticipated reunion with the sky..

Hold my hand and run away,

To the mountain shining bright..

Let’s fall, in love then stray away,

Till we carelessly learn to fly..

©Hira Chaudhry

Image courtesy: Pixabay

Triangles

He loved triangles, so he decided to gift me one..

Ever since I’m enclosed in it, always on a run..

On one end there’s love, and birds and a pair of rings..

On other end there’s hate, and a pair of broken wings..

I stand on the third end, while it tears my soul apart..

You stand on each end, staring at my broken heart..

©Hira Chaudhry

®Image courtesy: Fine Art America

Kayaking

On a moonlit night, listening to stories untold…

Or a warm summer morning, like melted gold..

The rusty old shoes, the same necklace of pearls..

The same old songs and her hair in perfect curls..

In the deafening peace of a snowy winter night..

The clock ticked louder, reminding of it’s might..

But everything at the sea was forever changing..

Change is life, thus the old man loved kayaking..

Lost

They place, one wound after another..

Sword after sword..

I bleed, from my chest and my eyes..

But I don’t scream..

Numb, I stare, far into the desert..

Still searching..

For something to live for, to fight back..