Spring still lies buried in the memory of ice,
The flowers of the season are curled in slumber,
Warmer days seem so distant and fragile,
In her sad heart the seeds of Spring slowly germinate.

The tides of Christmas brought a new song on the air,
The life of freedom was kissed and warmly blessed,
They called her the Mother of the eternal Saviour,
Her pure blood gave colour to the petals of her red rose.

The years hailed sharp and fast and the Lord of wisdom matured,
The soldiers sharpened their infernal spears and spikes,
The sands of time spat hot thorns through men’s minds,
She hugged her Son and crowned him with merciful sleep.

He caressed away the tears from eyes sad before their time,
They came in search of the Healer who washed away fear and pain,
He kissed his Mother’s palms and the scent of the rose was there,
She wrapped his aching pain in her tears and whispered peace in his ears.

Who will write our songs now?
Our children only know the sad chants of death.

Who will weep for our forgotten dead?
Our histories are buried under mountains of war.

Who will rock us to sleep now?
Our pillows are pockmarked with the roar of nightmares.

Who will sing and celebrate our days now?
Our skies are filled with the screams of death’s drones.

Who will feed us now?
Our hunger feeds our minds and sustains our souls.

Who will smile with us now?
Our families have been harvested into early earthen graves.

Who will remember us now?
Our haunted smiles are all that remain.

*Will you also take that from us?

Remember,
That first year in uncertain September,
She kissed you goodbye at the weeping gates,
School soon gave birth to new and exciting mates.

Remember,
The perfumed sweat of that summer,
Cool was the shade she so breezily offered,
You screamed and thundered and all her hopes shattered.

Remember,
The stainless snows of December,
Warm were the embers of the kitchen’s delicious fireplace,
Those well wrapped memories stay warm in the mind’s secure space.

Remember,*
The lost and lonely nights of November,
Gone was the warmth and safety of her love’s vast stream,
The nightmare days you feared now snuggle and drown your dreams.

There are angels buried in gravestones
And devils carved into human souls,

Under the marble crawls the tail of a serpent
And the death of life is scaled across its back.

There is a signature etched into her bones
And a stale message hums a storm in her veins,

At the dusk of another fast dying day she weeps
And grief scratches through the doors of her heart.

My child…

My sweet red rose,
The thorns of life’s wars have not yet marked their scars,
Snuggle next to me,
There, there,
Be warm and let me tell you about a love deeper than time…

In the perfumed halls of Eternity,
Once, when Time was yet an infant,
The Eternal Beloved of all sprinkled Love,
And the purest glittering particles settled
Upon a Mother and her sleeping newly born Child.

And love there was,
Timeless,
Universal,
Eternal,
True and pure.

My baby, rest easy,
My child, breathe easy,
My son, play easy,
My daughter, sleep easy,
The memory of love will light away any dark dreams.

I have loved life
And I have loved the seasons,
I have loved the scent of beauty
And I have loved God Eternal,
Remember well, my child, my love is always here for you.



©Rangzeb Hussain

The rains that once brought her the warmth of his gentle embrace,
Those rains have returned,
But now there is no more reassuring warmth
nor is there the scent of love,
His freshly splashed aftershave no longer mingles with the raindrops on her cheeks.

Under this lush greenwood avenue would she and he caress and talk,
Their shy miles spoke sweeter than words,
They had no need for long nightly chats,
Their love ran deeper and smoother than the reservoir
Where they used to sit in the days before the rains came.

In the field where he once played under the shade of the old oak tree,
Now there is only a burnt out stump,
Lightening struck there once and tore out the heart of the oak,
Softly falls the rain, deep it runs into the roots and veins,
Her sinking subconscious swims through the fragrance of the falling rain.

On the evening air there is a sigh of another dying day,
The pathway ahead of her shimmers with the wet memory pools of another dead day,
Somewhere along this now lonely road she lost something rare,
After the fall of love she found a way to live under the cold cloak of life,
Without him there by her side under the umbrella there is no reflection of joy.

Behind her, shadows of the past call after her, begging her to turn back,
Ahead of her, the path grows a little lighter,
Above her, the trees and clouds shift apart to shower light and hope,
Around her, the leaves glow green and red and yellow gold,
There was a storm once, and after the rains, came the silence of solitude.

Supple and smooth, silky soft skin,
Sensual, secretive and seductive,
It curves, full of curvaceous curls,

Hips glisten and warm to the touch,
Flawless flesh full of flirtatious discovery,
Horizons hatch with moist mystery,

Lascivious legs luscious and long,
And there nesting was a stark naked message,
It was sculpted in lines shaped with skull bone,

At the source where beautiful Life is birthed,
Right there at the doors of delirious desires,
Death held seat on the throne of Life.