It suddenly turned cold
Just a few days ago —
Went to all the places
I needed to see,
Preoccupied with work,
Treading lightly with chillness
In my thoughts.
Reflecting on bygone holidays,
Bathing in remembered warmth
In the markets of Islamabad.
My life runs in circles — a bit as if
There’s nothing new in the world.
The work of the past year
Seems to have been spent for naught;
Concepts twirling in my head,
Chatt’ring of a brave new world;
Thoughts speaking of energies misspent
In languages no-one ‘s supposed to know;
But mild hopes refuse to freeze.
Themes waiting to be expressed
Fermenting in the alchemy of my brain;
And I wish for
Something new to burn in my heart,
For new impulses
To quicken my restlessness.
But here’s a voice on the radio
Speaking of war in the east —
A part of my country’s shame,
Part of a history gone sour —
Refracting the rays of new optimism.
The present thus imposing itself
On my aimless ramblings,
I turn off the radio
To wade once more in winter’s chill.
