So quiet and tranquil,
Gone, the storm, it was so shrill,
And all is still.
My ship, the body of my dreams,
So far above, splits across the seams,
A tragic scene.
Dreamless death calls,
And the mass of bodies falls,
Pulled like ugly marionettes,
Played like ghastly dolls.
Thunder flashes as I sink like a stone,
In the dimming light; I am not alone,
The dead are briefly shown,
Blinking eyes glitter all around,
Dying stars far below the ground,
Not one makes a sound.
Their deathless faces scare me,
I freeze bound by invisible chains,
I grow afraid of the breath left in me,
Of the scarcity of the light that remains,
I push— push hard, though I am bound,
Dreams fall like debris, all around,
I try but I cannot make a sound,
I shout but only bubbles form,
They could do little to inform,
Those up in the din of the storm,
I will fight the thunder, live the pain,
Face the storm, cherish the rain,
If I could but breathe just once more,
If I could but dream once again.
5:00 am on the 26th of April, 2013.
Salman Shahid Khan