~ Enamoured


 

 

To those afar, she appears the pompous plump;

Her bearing ostentatious,

Her voice piercing;

Her beauty mendacious;

 

But to those who opened their eyes to her dazzle,

She is a goddess,

Of vivacious manners,

Under whose spell fell numerous warriors and rulers,

Adorning her with the jewels of their civilizations,

They sought to bring her under their own banners;

But history took to unsheath her mercilessness,

And withered all Maharajas, Rajas and Emperors,

Yet she remained unblemished,

Bestud with all the kingdoms’ splendour;

 

 view of Historical Badshahi Masjid lahore

 

With the richness of diversity her bosom swelled,

Sikh, Muslim, Christian, Hindu or Parsi – all to her embrace were impelled,

Her body became the canvas of cultures,

And her gardens accomplices in forbidden meetings of lovers;

From her veins the poets drank to intoxication;

In her company philosophers and thinkers indulged in contemplation;

 

 

The winds of time have rumbled past since,

But even today,

Infront of her majesty and grandeur,

Can dare not stand a rival or contender;

 

She throbs with life, with no blink of sleep,

Pounding with vibrant resilience as the heart of a land whose wounds are deep;

 

A part of me, she has become,

I dwell in her, and she dwells in me;

There is calm in her clamour;

In which whirls my soul,

As I love her for her all madness; enamoured.

~ Hafsa Khawaja

 

Advertisements

Before You Speak to Judge.


*Written back in 2010.

Before you cast a look of disgust on my face,

Decree my value by it, that too in haste,

Ever do you wonder, what made it lose its grace?

 

 

From the abundance and lack of crisp paper,

The fortunes I posses, you suppose,

To where it really lies, you fail to peek and know,

For it is the heart in which wealth is held, sole and alone,


By how I walk, by what I eat,

How magnificent my abode is and in which street,

You draw a conclusion of what I am,

Not by my deeds but all these?


All my actions,

You examine and dissect,

 What forces me to inherit these ways, do you ever check?

The scars it left,

The bruises it gifted me and of much it made me bereft,

With your hands tied to your back,

In one glance, from the unfathomable depth of my painful past,

 You think the real reasons you can fetch?

 

Deeming me a sinner,

Declaring others future inhabitants of heaven,

Who are you to say?


Because when open will 
crack the grounds,

And swallowed will be mankind,

With each’s souls by the Angel of Death, impounded,

On our bodies will lay the same single cloth of white,

No riches in hand, no tongue to speak,

Time would’ve crumbled to dust with and with no second to contrite,

So remember the Last Day,

And through what you’ll trudge,

When you speak to judge,

As we have our own paths to pave,

For at the end we’d have separate graves.

~ Hafsa Khawaja

Kiss Your Bloodied Forehead In Love


‘Born to be pure,

Now maimed and ruined,

So much you endured,

                                                                   

Sway my feet into a dance of ecstasy,

To know my lifeless body one day would lie at yours,

 Joyfully entrapped under your soil!

 

Today you may have a crown of thorns pierced into your head above,

Yet I will admire forever & kiss your bloodied forehead in love!

 

Because with all your scars,

And your burning body set to fire by drunken czars,

You’d always be beautiful my Pakistan,

 

And the more those flames rage,

My affection and devotion for you inflames!

                                                                                                                                                   

~ Hafsa Khawaja

 

 

~ My Body and Soul


If death comes knocking on my door,
I shall welcome it with grace,
But never will I abandon this land, its embrace..

For from its soil, I rose to breathe,
And to it I shall return for eternal sleep!

As inseparable is the a human’s flesh and spirit,
Until death’s fragrance stings the heart’s core,
For my soul is Pakistan and I am a body,
And without it,
I am what the body is without the soul,
A mere heap of flesh and bones..”                                                                                                                                                                        

– H.K