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 Jan 2023 Bilkis
Rangzeb Hussain
Long ago in shadows when the world was in magic robed,
Thus begins this tragic tale from times old,
A Mother and a bright girl did have a cottage near a hill,
On the edge of a creeping forest did they live.

Poor they were yet happy too with songs at dawn,
Nor did their stomachs in hunger churn or yawn,
Life was hard but they got by with chickens hatching hatching,
Eyes in the night always watching watching.

The Mother did always caution her delightful daughter,
“Freia, don’t be a lamb to the slaughter,
Wrap your apple blossom face from the dead eyes of dogs,
Beware the men who haunt the forest fog.”

The bright days were dreamed away in peace and solitude,
No neighbours did intrude,
Time slipped away over the misty mountains and innocent lambs,
The years ran on, so silently they ran.

One day in late autumn when Freia had maidenhood reached,
She was asked to gather wood for heat,
The days were getting shorter and the spiked nights were colder,
Shadows scratched by their door.

“Give me my red scarf quick for I want to be a girl good!
For you I will get sticks of tinder wood!”
But before she let go her dancing daughter dear
The Mother did speak of fear.

“Freia, hush and listen! Return quickly for I am in fear soaking,
Watch out for the wet croaking Water-Goblin
Who reigns and dines beneath the river and hides in woodbine,
Take heed, Lady Night upon the sky shows her signs.”

“Never fear, dear Mother wise of mine,” said Freia,
“Blind Mistress Night, ha!
She will never ever catch or lay her black claws upon me,
Just wait and see! Back I will be.”

Freia skipped and slipped into the forest loud with sound,
She was collecting wood from the ground
When an idea came darting and burrowed into her curious mind,
“There’s no Water-Goblin! It’s a tale to scare and blind.”

And to prove her Mother wrong about tales tall and long
She went to the riverbank to sing a song,
The place was dark and no bird sang in the gloomy twilight,
Bright bones upon the bank caught her sight.

A frosty wind licked her and goose-pimples did appear,
Her spine chilled and shivered,
She tried to brush off the terror in which she was crippled,
Upon the river her eyes spied a ripple.

Something was swimming and straight to her heading!
Her legs grew heavy and she stopped humming,
She stayed rooted as up her legs crawled spidery lice,
She stood like a statue carved out of ice.

Bubbles were breaking above the tar-like water ring,
The gap closing between her and the thing,
“O, why did I to this dead river come running and singing?
How I wish I was at home skipping!”

It was as if some magic older than time kept her frozen,
Freia had thus been chosen,
The gap between her and the creature was fast closing,
If only she was at home safely dozing!

She tried to shout but only dry silence puffed out,
Her eyes bulged, she was clouded in doubt,
Tears fell upon her cheeks but she still could not scream,
Cruel, O how wrong everything now seemed!

Something dark, something bleeding green greed
Crept from the water with fluid speed,
The creature from the river wrapped a long strong arm
And held Freia’s gentle palms.

“Mine!” it gurgled through gnashing sharp teeth.
“Please, no!” spoke Freia in fever’s heat.
“Bride you will be!” the scaly creature hugged and hissed,
With jagged lips he did upon Freia plant a kiss.

The Water-Goblin, for indeed it was he,
Dragged away Freia by the knee,
Into the cold and dank river he waded,
O, how his touch she hated!

“I’ll drown!” Freia screamed, “To the shore take me!”
“Please, no!” she tried to sense make him see,
“I’m sure to slip and sink and in the water drown and weep!”
“Will not,” spoke he, “Magic bubble I shall for you weave!”

He spun his murky magic and just as he had promised and hissed,
A large air bubble circled Freia’s body and hips,
He lowered her ever deeper into his Netherworld Kingdom,
Up above the sun into the horizon did drown.

The green-eyed Water-Goblin a wedding banquet did hold,
It was a hideous party truth be told,
The guests he had invited made Freia’s skin crawl,
Demons of all kinds smiled and prowled.

The poor girl dizzily danced with the greedy groom,
Her speech slurred and darkness loomed,
Her pulse quickened and her breath came in bursts short,
Her husband’s nails did pinch and hurt.

A year and a day passed away like a carnivorous nightmare
And Freia birthed a baby golden haired,
“Pretty child,” grunted the Water-Goblin, “Is it a boy?”
“No, it’s a girl,” spoke Freia with joy.

Freia enjoyed the happiness by and by tick,
But soon she became homesick,
She wished to see her Mother and to her show the baby,
In that watery Kingdom she was but a trophy.

“Please let me visit my mother?” she kept pleading.
“Never!” he kept repeating.
“Please?” Freia was all honey, clever and charming.
“Never ever!” he was no more laughing.

And so it went on, and on, each and every day,
The Water-Goblin did for an end pray,
“Wife go then,” he one day gave in and readily flipped,
“Back you must come!” he spat through rotted lips.  

“Go now,” he gestured with claws ******
And at the child in the crib he pointed,
“The baby tender and sweet will with me stay,
Come back or else she pays.”

Freia begged, “To my dear Mother I want to baby display.”
“Hark and hear!” he kicked the cot of clay,
“Listen to my dread law. The child here plays.
Return to me by dark of this day.”

He took her to the surface and released her from the spell
Which kept her prisoner in the river red,
She went away yet still she heard a warning burning in her ears,
“Be back before dark or else they be tears!”

When to the old cottage she arrived she wiped her tears,
Her Mother was sitting in the rocking chair,
In the very air floated cobwebs, dust and impending doom,
The room was cloaked in layers of grainy gloom.

Freia rushed to her Mother feeling sad and weak,
It had been a year since they last did speak,
Mother and daughter warmly hugged and held each other fast,
“O, my doll, you return at last from the past!”

Freia did to her Mother tell her tale from beginning to end,
She was broken and needed to mend,
To her Mother she told about her beautiful baby,
Outside, the light was fast fading.

“I must now go back to my darling child before dark
Or else my dread lord will bark
And wreck vengeance most sharp upon my precious pearl,
O, how I miss my darling girl!”

“But don’t you see?” began the wise Mother true,
“The Water-Goblin has no magic over you.
It is said that whosoever returns to dry land can the spell break
If they keep the Water-Goblin at bay till daybreak.”

“Will the vile Water-Goblin free me and my child sweet?
And will he shift this curse? O, do speak!”
“Yes! You and the baby will be safe,” the Mother explained,
“The Water-Goblin will crack and be in pain.”

“Now we wait for the night of shadows long,” said the Mother poor
As she bolted the door,
“Go and bar the kitchen windows, I begin to feel sick,
Lock also the house on this side, be quick!”

No sooner had they barred the door of the cottage old
When the wind howled down the valley cold,
Night shrouded the land and black things moved outside,
They heard the rain pelting the hillside.

The storm with titanic volcanic fury spoke,
Everything fled even hope,
The cottage door with demonic force did vibrate,
Something was tearing the cottage.

“Has he come for me?” Freia shook in her Mother’s arms,
“Has my Master come to inflict harm?”
“No!” shouted her Mother over the thunderclaps,
“It’s the storm perhaps.”

Scratching was heard and they began to fearfully pray,
The panel above the doorway shattered,
Sharp shards of glass everywhere cascaded and scattered,
“Come back!” the thing outside banged and battered.

“It’s the wind. Only the wind, darling dear,” the Mother cleared
Her frightened daughter’s eyes full of fear,
The noise and the angry threats of the unseen creature
Drove darts of icy terror into their features.

“When will this nightmare end?” asked Freia with concern.
Replied the Mother, “Dawn is about to be born.
This Water-Goblin has to go back to his Kingdom before sunrise
Or else he will lose his life and prize.”

Crash! Something broke, splinters of wood in the air flew,
Cracked claws clawed across morning dew,
A hairy paw with nails long and sharp shot through the opening
Above the door and for the lock began searching.

A heartrending howl of frustration then was heard,
Without warning the probing fist did disappear
And there was an unnatural silence in the morning land,
The Hour of the dead Wolf was at hand.

Bang! Something outside the door had horribly burst,
Something had been flung with frightful force
But the cottage door was strong and held firm and fast
The Mother dryly spoke, “The terror has passed.”

“Has it?” said Freia as she with caution went to unhook the lock,
The handle was cold and her heart still in shock,
Her brow and hands wet with the nightmare’s perspiration,
She paused before the door in desperation.

Something lay on the ground before the door all blood and bone,
The sight would bring tears even to a stone,
Freia saw what the Water-Goblin had used to batter the door with,
O, how she wished to stitch her eyelids!

For there lay the lifeless body of her baby on the earth,
This was the baby to whom she had given birth,
Only a small finger remained of the golden curled girl,
The Water-Goblin’s curse had done the worst.



©Rangzeb Hussain
 Jan 2023 Bilkis
Catherine Flynn
Mother taught me everything that I know about love
Mother told me of the wildfires she once started
She said she used to love to watch it all burn down

She said, she never stuck around to see what happened afterward
She said she didn't want to know
She said, she learned not to light matches and spew fire
She said she learned it the hard way so that I didn't have to
Mother sacrificed her soul for me
She said unconditional love does not exist outside of family
For mother “unconditional love” did not exist outside of obligation

Mother had a lot to say-
for someone who always held her tongue when it mattered
Mother let herself be engulfed by a man
Mother let her flame-
I mean her soul-
I mean her flame
be put out by a man
Mother’s soul was swallowed by an ocean she called “love”
Mother allowed hate to swallow her whole

Mother does not know that I am not fire
Mother does not know that I am stone
Mother claims to see light where no one else can
Mother does not know what it means to be empty
Mother does not know what it means to be cold  
Mother did not mean to turn my heart into an icicle-
sharp from how slowly it melted and froze in this ice box they call "body"
The same one that killed all of the butterflies in my stomach-
froze them too like old memories that no longer have movement

I want to tear my torso in two
I want to cut out all of the desolate pieces
I want to show you my broken butterflies and missing memories
I want to prove that something used to live in here once
I know it did
I know it had to of
It couldn't have always been this hard to touch me
It couldn't have always been this hard to feel me
Why can’t anybody feel me
Why do they keep saying that my skin is burning them
Why don't they understand that it's frostbite


I have learned –
to make everyone sign a disclaimer
In big bold letters it reads:
THE WOUNDS I GIVE YOU WILL NOT HEAL OVER TIME
IF YOU HOLD ME FOR TOO LONG YOUR APPENDAGES WILL GO NUMB
YOU WILL LEARN WHAT IT MEANS TO TURN TO STONE ON THE OUTSIDE
YOU WILL LEARN WHAT IT MEANS TO TURN TO STONE ON THE INSIDE
YOU WILL LEARN WHAT IT MEANS TO BE ME
YOU WILL REGRET THIS
Sign your name at the bottom if you’re willing

You see what mother did not see and I did not grasp
was how I watched father seethe-
spewing nothing but condemnation
No one to blame but his own boiling blood
That same blood coursing through my own veins
Father taught me hate
Father taught me lies
Father left the water running always
Mother never paid attention to what made the water run
Mother did not care that the water had a predetermined path unbeknownst to her

Mother would tell me to watch
Mother would tell me to wait
Mother would say things like
See, as they rise and fall at the feet of what stands against them
Mother does not know true love
Mother never learned to love herself
Mother does not notice that although the rock may stand-
day after day it is beaten mercilessly
Mother refuses to believe that the ocean-
that father-
will always come back stronger

I will teach mother empathy
I will teach mother that you can be cold and still know warmth
I will teach father forgiveness    
I will teach father that you can’t burn others without getting scarred
I will teach myself resilience
I will teach myself how to hold love without getting burned
I have heard-
that when two stones are struck together
at the right angle, under the right conditions
They can create a spark
Still I yearn to find a name
A new name for my mother
A name that would give her more respect from her neighbors
A name that would give her dignity and purity
Struggle after struggle, pain after pain
Now that the British are gone, why is mother still having her old name?
She needs to move
Paces ahead
However, something still holds her back
Her capabilities will never be recognized
Because…she has not yet gotten a new identity
To lead her to prosperity
To give her a home to call home
And children to call children
Mother is still a developing country
Why? Why her?
Why has the likes of U.S.A defeated her once again?
Yet, something still tells me to cling to mama
Even when she clutches at the last straw
Love her, be with her,
She has constantly told me
“Worry not child, darkness shall surely give birth to the first break of dawn”
Mother gave birth to presidents and ‘leaders’
They failed; they did not kiss the noble sand of mother’s roots!
They brought in corruption and poverty
Poor management and misuse of power

She is still innocent
The sons brought about poor leadership, economic instability and unemployment
But the sons of my mother did not try their level best to give her a new name
Infact, they pushed her down
Forgot how much her dignity meant to her
Her eyes held craters just like the moon
Enough to make you write poetry in every crater she fell into
Her roots had soothing temperature and a great view
Not forgetting a whole pack of creatures that invite
Yes, invite, even the most prominent people around
To come take selfies and pictures that they take back to their lands
But mother, with all this blessings from Nyame or Juok or Otomankoma or even Nyasaye
Why is mother still crawling?
Will mother have a new name?
A new identity?
When will she possess angel wings that dance with her?
Is victory still oceans and oceans away from her?
I see a light, light at the end of tunnel
Light that I only see when I look at the youngest sons of mother
Yes, the youth!
They have seen unemployment, poverty, education and drugs
They have also seen industries, businesses, money and success
Why is the youth the beloved of mother?
The youth have hopes and visions
They have it in their minds the ability to give mother a new name
A name that she can honor forever
A name that suits her standards
They are not a ticking time bomb; they are the pride of mother!

However, mother needs to shape their success just like any other mother
Not with garlands or with kisses
But by programs that will help this sons secure jobs
By offering start-up finances for growing entrepreneurs
By promoting talent and innovation of her sons
Mother will get her identity through her own assistance in shaping this light!
Education has always made her neighbors defeat her
She needs to take care of her children’s’ education
Seek means to let all her sons go to school
Get empowered and be the faces of change.
The youth should be led to be leaders
And only mama’s elder sons can do so
The owners and teachers
Preachers and sisters
They can help the youth be leaders!
Poverty and hunger
A big catastrophe that always seems to hit mother’s Manyatta!
The youngest sons can cater for improvement in health care facilities
Water and sanitation, economic security and child participation
How will they manage?
The impossible can only be possible if they learn the ways of their land
If they train themselves to be leaders
If and only if, they really want to give mother a new name!
Mother has accepted the fact that the old sons could not do much for her
However, today, while I send you this message from her
She wants the elder sons to urge more investment in agriculture and tourism
Construction and businesses
Projects and activities that will favor the dearest sons of mother

By providing them with employment opportunities that will help them
Yes, help them create positive change for mother and us, the children.
60% of mother’s youngest sons are unemployed!
Mother yet has the largest number of the young generation
How will mother adjust to a new name?
The eldest sons need to stop whichever activities that hinder the growth of this household!
They need to realize that they are the eldest and they should lead the young by their actions!
The youngest sons have convinced me that even if mother is far from the sea’s view’
The night sky shall still carry them in it!
Today, as we await this new day that mother always craved for,
She remarks “I see a new name coming pretty soon”.
A ***** bread.
It took a lot of conquering and mutilation,
to get to where I am right now,


WE SURVIVE
WE STRIVE
WE ARE ALIVE


My son, you will one day grow and die,
your soul will move on to the next host in life.
You know the past, you see everything as if you were time.
FUTURE has no boundaries, others create barriers.
You simply create future times and they fail not.
 Jan 2021 Bilkis
caroline
pony-tailed playmate
head tucked in her shirt
gazing steadily down
at her toes in the dirt

chaos tiptoes around her
naive oblivion
journeys in far away lands
just west of the meridian

watercolor fairy tales
bleeding outside the lines
unaware of the danger
unaware of the signs

let me sit with you, darling
in the dampened flower beds
and paint a new world
for us in our heads
 Jan 2021 Bilkis
Nyx
It's Simple
 Jan 2021 Bilkis
Nyx
-

I like you

-
Nothing more and nothing less
 Jan 2021 Bilkis
mikarae
sing me your inspiration,
so that words may blossom
through the rings of the tree
in my paper.

gift me your passions,
so that pathways may carve
through inked rivers
and graphite daydreams.

paint me your love,
so that I may palette
your rainbow
and color my canvas

with my favorite colors of you.

the soft pink
of the inside of your lips,
and the offset grey
haloed through your eyelashes.

tiger lily freckles framed
by sweet peach
and wallflower blushes.

rainfall wrists
and dutch cocoa silk.

all my canvas needs
are the colors of you.
acrylic affirmations and watercolor whispers

— The End —