i’m standing at the threshold 
a child plump – hair tied 
eyes fixed on liquid lives i do not
understand. i am four

the eagle swims through watery clouds
i leave my diary open in hope 
you will read its chasm filled pages 
i want you to understand. i am fifteen

birds of prey wait and watch
i give you your last *ghussal
your lips have sworn allegiance 
my anguish remains a secret buried 
with you.
i wanted you to understand. i am 21

white serenity migrates over the
*Quetta skies
to warmer abodes
you watch me watch you watch me
i want to make you understand. i am 30

brown hair i pleat 
kneading love into your laughter 
you share stories from school 
i ache to understand. you are 15 daughter 

i stand at the door
at the gate
near cars 
by the window 
to smile at your vacant departures 
i understand how it all ends
brief interludes, briefer stories –

here rests age 
defiant women 
weaving lives unto lives 
laughing as we bake our bread-
round *rotis
need not be perfect;
sharing ancient fables 
of survival 
woman after woman;
ruins erected over those 
who couldn’t understand ;
that love survives albeit 
lovers departing ~

…

Dee is from Lahore, Pakistan. Loves dark nights and old trees.

* ghussal is the last rite in islam. the last bath of the dead*
*Quetta- migratory birds fly over the skies of Quetta, from north to south
*rotis- baked bread