The Sacrifice

The Sacrifice

Separating her young legs,
His manliness found a way,
And she reciting the durood shareef,
Fought her senses
To get done with the incest.
Take me,
Not my sister.
The sacrifice.

© Dr Hafsa Siddiqui

27/1/17

Commentary: This poem that I wrote almost a year ago, was asked to be taken down due to its objectionable content. We adults need to wake up to  what exactly our kids are facing. If all things will be under the rug swept, then more distorted and unhealed stories will continue to be written. Speak now. Act now. Care now. It matters to a child.

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Monsters

Monsters

I wonder if monsters
Ever have demons of their own.
Demons that plaque them…
Demons that creep
From under their bed.
Incubus or succubus
That call their name in sleep.
Medusa that turn to stone,
Their shocked bodies.
Or just ‘humans’
That beat the monsters
At their game.
Stalkers, serial killers, rapists,
Online predators …
Up to date.
So called ‘feminists’
That sling mud
Onto women that cannot hurt.
Cat- calling , Eve- teasing,
For tis’ the women are to blame.
Even monsters may have rules.
What to speak of mortals; fools.
Pedophiles lure the innocence,
To their darkest lairs.
Putting even demons to shame.

 

©Dr Hafsa Siddiqui (2018)

Lessons from the Birds

Lessons from the Birds

Have you not seen
The birds flying in a flock?
Held in mid-air
Soaring on the air currents,
By Al Rehman?
Have you not seen…
That when one is tired
And flies low…
Leaving his position
Of the leader of the flock,
He glides back
To fly in
Another’s tutelage?
But doesn’t give up.
The air pressure decreases
As does the strength.
Taking turns
To migrate to a favourable place;
Their destination.
But they don’t ever give up.
They remain;
A flock.
A team.
A pack.
So, when your brother is hurt or dismayed
Pull up your socks
And be there.
For one good deed
From you is all it takes.
A few kind words
To help him get back up.
A dua …
To raise his ranks.
A shoulder
Onto which he can momentarily rest.
Perhaps, this little deed will be the one
That puts you in Paradise.
And let you hear the words
“Razi Allahu Anhu wa Radu.”*

©Dr Hafsa Siddiqui (2018)

 

* “Allah is pleased with them and they are pleased with Him.”

“To the Ones Who Only Pray”

“To the Ones Who Only Pray”

I’m not innocent Maryam AS
Who bore a child and faced inhumane slurs
On her chastity.
I’m not Yusuf AS who fought against desire,
And won after seeing Burhaan from Him
While Zuleikha tempted,
Tearing at his shirt.
And, I am not Adam AS
Whose loneliness
He saw and blessed
With a loving companion.
A desolate, woman
I am buckling under
And struggling to get back on my feet,
Half-heartedly.
And to the ones who pray;
I’ll tell Him
On The Judgement Day
To question those
Whom I approached for help.
“What did you do when
My slave came to you for help…?”
Will your answer suffice that:
“Lord, we prayed for her. Nothing else.”
Remember.
For I will, too.

©Dr Hafsa Siddiqui (2018)

Gulqand

Gulqand

Wrapped between the betel quid,
Sticky sweet roses fade,
Aromatic and fresh,
Yet their own colour has bled.
Lying between slaked lime
To cut a tongue into an ulcer
And the brown earth of kathaa.
Stuffed between the cheeks
Of a lecher or haseena;
Or that of a couple
From a cheap cinema.
The pure
And innocent rose petals
Immortalised and
Confined
In a cheap green tavern bed;
Trapped and tainted innocence.

Hafsa Siddiqui

 

Blood Caked Rhymes (A Dedication)

A fellow writer and poet penned an amazing poem,”Leeches”. The lines written below are my meagre dedication to her mettle. These are for you, Hareem Fatima! 💛

Throbbing with greatness,
Each line a pulse!
Let the leeches
Feed off
From the bloodstream
Pouring forth from a hearth.
Mould your bleeding words
Into blood caked rhymes
Pick up your pieces,
For every clot smiles.

©Hafsa Siddiqui (2018)

The Shopping Basket

The Shopping Basket

 

Stretched before a bustling supermart;
Busy people, busy lives.
Shopping for food and supplies;
A single woman
With empty hands, cries.
With money scarce
And love scarcer.
With words abound
But emptiness abundant,
She looks at families
With tearful eyes.
Shopping carts full
Of brand new toys,
Maybe a rack of lamb
To roast for the kids.
Chips and veggies
For the family dinner.
And then she looks at
Her own single servings.
Half a kilo, at max
Of everything.
Enough to last a week.
Her eyes span, again
On the horizon cast.
Toddlers in the aisles
Picking up stuffed toys
And with tantrums hoist.
Two little tears
Make eyes moist.
Eyes look down to her
Grocery Basket,
And with her lips
Escape the sighs.
She remembers well
Her siblings’ fights
Good natured
After awhile that reconciled.
But gone are the days
She weeps alone.
No shoulders
To rest her weary crown on.
Loneliness; has finally
Found home.

 

Hafsa Siddiqui