across a pastel blue sky,
I see with my father's eyes
and hope the memory stays alive
to water me
in sorrow's time.
Walking, with my hand outstretched
to feel the stone, the marble set
of furniture
that has travelled seas,
to touch my palm,
to be with me.
I saw my shadow nights ago
peep out at me so suddenly,
I jumped, then laughed
"It's only me!"
My darker side,
but only me.
-----------------------------------
Shaista wrote this poem last year, and I'd posted it on my own blog back then because I really liked it. It takes us back to another place when the future was bright for all five of us. Anyway things took a turn for the worse over the past couple of days due to a horrific mistake by the doctors looking after Shaista, and she has not been able to give directions around things to post, so I'm putting this one up for her. I hope you like it. Please keep writing in. Every message left here is a happy distraction in a time of a lot of pain and trauma. Thanks. Rizwan
I'm very sorry to hear this. I am sending healing prayer her way. Her poem is very delicately and carefully observed, beautiful and poignant.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Rizwan. The poem is beautiful, as usual, and you are being ever so generous. I wish your sister better.
ReplyDeleteGreetings from London.
Thanks so much for posting, Rizwan. Shai and your family are in my prayers. Please tell her I am sending my love, and happy, healing thoughts her way. She has always been a strong, beautiful spirit, and I know she will be better again soon.
ReplyDeleteAll the best,
Sam Stevenson
I am thinking of you Shaista. You are in my prayers.
ReplyDeleteCatherine
Dear Shaista,
ReplyDeleteYou are a trooper, so you will survive this last bout. Keep fighting Shaista, we are standing behind you with healing prayers.
With all the flowers of spring you will bloom again!
Keeping you in my thoughts, Jeannette
You write delicately and beautifully Shaista...
ReplyDeleteKeep writing. Keep fighting. We are all around you.
Heaps of love,
Meriem
I always enjoy her poems. I wish her well.
ReplyDeleteGreetings from London.
Shaista; the warrior poet, what a beautiful thought. Rizwan mailed me the link to this site and i've been transfixed for a bit.
ReplyDeleteMy favourite would be "Shadow in the stone," the Tayabali home the way I remember it, the shaista I remember, 12 years old and leading the feminist brigade against irksome Rizwan. We are with you Shaista, as we work, at the dinner table, in our prayers-a constant, collective Sunavala healing energy.