Under the orange
street lights
it's 3am

Longing to find him,
she skulks alone
in the dark

And as London sleeps
her cries go unheard
by all but one

I am a woman of the ocean,
You cannot break me,
But can drown in me.

-Nida Mahmoed

Karachi,
I love Karachi,
not just because'
this city has allowed to'
my grandparents and'
than my parents to'
make their homes here,
but her sky,
moon, sun, air,
ocean and soil are'
breathing in me as a love,
Love is name of a feeling,
where you would try to leave'
that place or a person,
but more you try,
more you feel home'
within them,
As same I do feel with Karachi.

-Nida Mahmoed

She keeps songs
locked away in boxes
like secrets.
She will take them out
like postcards
to help her remember
the feeling of
a different time,
a different person
by her side.
She likes the one
that makes her
eyes close
to see the lights.
She smiles at
the one that  
makes her stand
up on tiptoes,
the one that
helps her forget
she doesn’t know
what to do
with her hands.

The tune
will carry her.

Like it did
the times when
voices broke
like a heart.
When instruments’ strings
would snap
and hurt.

She was sitting there
Crying silently
Mascara flowing down
Down her broken face
Her broken fate

She was not a boy
Her truth was hidden
"You have to be a boy"
Her truth was forbidden


Secretively
She took her mother's Bindi
Lying carelessly on the bed
And wore it on her forehead
It was the only rebellion she was allowed
In a society so afraid
Of someone different from the crowd
But for the moment
It was all she needed

"Don't make the gods cry"
But what about her own tears?
The Bindi on "his" forehead
Was human civilization's greatest fear

Everybody wore a mask
She just couldn't
Or she would die
She was shakti
She was power
She was courage personified
The Bindi on her forehead
they couldn't hide

You, still written upon my heart,
Running rampant throughout this body
I cannot lay still enough to sleep.

And each time I turn,
I can feel you forgetting
how my hand feels
in yours.