The lights of the city are brighter at night,
When the dogs finally feel safe enough to roam,
And the crows go back to their nests after cawing all day.
Orange honey pours over the prickly streets,
Streets that have never been washed
Except in the lows of winter
With the blood of those exiled to its edges.
A city that expands like rotten ojri weeks after Eid ul Azha,
That oozes the sweat and tears of those that have come here to find some safety and solace.
But to those of us that have been birthed from its cursed womb,
Love has started to feel like pain,
Pain has started to feel like fury,
And it shows in the crushed bodies
Of animals left behind by those ‘just in a hurry.’
They say time runs like the wind here;
They say it almost runs away,
Except at the sea wall where lovers meet,
Those at the beginning of romance
And those at the brink of collapse
And those whose madness comes before them.
Here, in Mother’s arms,
You will know loneliness but never solitude,
You will know desire but never fulfillment,
You will know more than you ever need to.
