The heart has got blighted
Like a wilted flower
All that is revealed through it
Looks afflicted and without a lustre
Even the mirror was telling me today
What a broken look
I allowed on my face to play
So hard to fathom in matters of heart
Why the agitations of the mind have a say?
And yet harder was to infer
The poor heart’s predilections
To wear garlands of smiles
Even in the face of deep afflictions
I wonder what would have become
Of my incessant restlessnesses
Had there not been to fall back upon
The bedrock of my soul, its boulevard and recesses?
And I wonder if ever
Restlessnesses lose their own restfulness,
Anxieties ever become anxious
Part a whole, and whole a fullness?
@ Raz Nawadwi
Razn Nawadwi 