Not yet, she did not show up, didn't rhyme
playing her headline acts on the face of earth.
Donned in the body born on Earth a new soul
is the flesh and bone part of it or its Earth's own?
She didn't take it with a pinch of salt, came with her own.

Clustering 360 degrees around it Earth draws closer
Holy smoke, eyes are on the pristine mirror of herself!
The sun raises the candle in east to the west
but it won’t expose, a name is treasured in the chest!

Playing chiaroscuro beyond the rainbow’s end
the Earth with her painting in light and dark  
let alone connecting the dots it couldn't bag
her footprint even at her death.

A millennium and half passed masses still wish
finding her grave wasn't like painting the wind.  
Not a firefly nor a butterfly in Medina knows it where
yet a name generation after generation is a buzz!
Sayeedatun Nessa, the feminine Queen in Paradise,
Fathima shifted the feminine mystique from Earth
enwrapped back into heaven veiled and intact
the wonder is now paradise’s gold dust!

a falling boy's
measured out footprint,
slipping in vain search
for a breadcrumb of solace

lost is spring, and green,
and bird nesting,
lost is his mother's smile,
he breathes in deeply

a memory of trees,
an afternoon sun
emptied of fertility:
a high wood on its last, teetering legs

urban air is everywhere
and wishes to be free,
but we are all carbon emissions,
separate living-dying pieces

polluted hieroglyphics
with nothing to convey,
fragments of a prayer
with nothing left to say

I want to sleep closer to the sky,
Mark my footprints in the clouds,
Live my dreams without a reason why,
And hold you closer than my thoughts allow.

There was misery and agony all around,
Everyone was crying the blues with hands clasped,
With body trembling, heart palpitating.
Everyone was trying to engulf the grieve of the loss,
Of the total loss of a loved one.

His spirit is going to meet the deity,
He is going to heaven leaving this mortal bulk and
The thirst of abundance of wealth.
But he is leaving all the unforgettable relationships,
leaving all the immortal memories,
going to last till demise, with all of us alone.

But why to cry, when a loved one is going
To meet the enormous supernatural being?
When his spirit is going to meet the almighty,
When he is leaving all these venial desires, all these Mortal thoughts, leaving this ill world.

Whether to cry our eyes out or to be full of the joys of springs?
Whether to grieve or to rejoice on this event
Of bonding among the spirit and the almighty?
Whether to follow footprints or to make one?

Banal breathes,
why must I pressure myself
to do cornfed motions,
                           that serve as life...

I held you in,
tried to suffocate your existence.
But self preservation
          is an inhalation of regrets.

We rob the planet, feeding it our exhaust,
                    a carbon footprint
better off with out..

Sometimes the day to day
                                  bland reasoning,
  out ways the necessity of us.

gliding and sliding  
between two sheets of slippery translucent paper
no friction, no traction, no adhesions
no trace or footprint
closing behind you as you pass
you can live a whole life
striving and trying but
it's as if you were never there

One day, in my travels, I found a monument to the forgotten.

I found footprints there, and though they fit my feet, I had no memory of being there before.

One side of the monument was blank, full of words that could not be read.

One side was burnt, and ashes twisted in the mourning breeze.

One side was covered with a sheet.

One side towered high, yet was gone before I fully looked away.

And all around, footprints.

All of them mine.