Letter to Papa After All is Said and Done
Letter to Papa after all is said and done
Papa, It begins now, again after
One whole year and some days.
I hear your voice over a shivering
Telephone cable. The voice itself
Jittery, old, tired; how you’ve aged
While I was looking away, nurturing rage.
They tell me your eyes are in the center
Of deep crevices, and your smile has withered
Like the paper you wrote your letters on.
The words intact, but the pages crisp and wrinkled,
Tea stains on the edges, tear drops in the margins.
I think to myself as your voice heaves
Some thousand miles, some oceans, some continents
Away: Where is the man I loved and hated
And worshipped and blasphemed?
Is this he? This ancient voice whispering prayers
And praises and a hidden apology?
Is this poor soul bearing my burden,
And the burden of my sisters,
And of his father’s daughters, and their
Daughters, too? Is this the same voice that said
“A daughter is love” and then raised three,
No six, no ten?
Papa, Dearest Man, Sir, How I love you
Even old and broken, and no longer
The hero riding a black stallion and racing to
Conquer the world, the world, the world.
It begins now, with your voice crackling,
And my face looming in a photo before my eyes.
My face, my eyes, my lips, my hands, my words,
All yours in essence, spirit, and appearance.
Papa, I am still a picture of you. You run in my veins.
You have given me your black stallion and the good saddle.
Papa, I am your legacy.
Very Noor-ul-Ain when it comes to the strength of emotion and feeling.
and
Very not Noor-ul-Ain in the style. Longer sentences, work nice for this ‘letter’ poem. They give a more prosy feeling to it.
Alot many lines I like in there, like:
“Jittery, old, tired; how you’ve aged
While I was looking away, nurturing rage.”
Rhyme always works for me
“Tea stains on the edges, tear drops in the margins.”
“Papa, Dearest Man, Sir, How I love you” – Alaa!
There are a few lines I thought were a little awkward.
“They tell me your eyes are in the center
Of deep crevices” – there’s something about this image that is awkward, I get what you mean but after a lilttle delibration. The image doesn’t form itself instantly infront of my eyes.
“No six, no ten daughters?” – I think if u leave out the word ‘daughters’ here, it wudd work better.
Th end was a little abrupt, I was looking forward to a longer poem. But well rendered, as always
You are right. I purposely made the lines longer. And I will fix ???No six, no ten daughters???? This is a good point. The word ‘daughters’ is not necessary here. Let’s hear more about the image of eyes between crevices and then decide whether to keep it or trash it. The thing with this poem that you will notice is that it oscillates between literal and metaphorical in terms of imagery.
Thanks for the comment. : )
Noor
Beautiful, Noor. I actually like the longer lines. As Sidra says, they make the poem more prosy.
Jittery, old, tired; how you???ve aged
While I was looking away, nurturing rage.
The intensity of this line made me mutter something out loud, which made my co-worker give me the crazy eye
.
Thanks, Hasnain. Why are you ghayab these days? I liked the short piece you posted. Write more.
Noor
Too much work at work and school yaar…writing’s become more of a luxury than anything right now. Oh well…