Naveed Saraf Poems

Endowed with the fringes of burned wood,
Decorated with frivolous ornaments,
See I cannot carry the weight of my arms,
The veins have hardened, see I don't breathe.
...

As I walk past the sun's rosy cheeks,
And leave behind its realms,
Amongst the narrow paths,
'tween the torn nests:
...

What shall become of the hand?
that stretches to shroud the womb,
and strangulate the voice of a mother
into the dark streets of the mid-night sun.
...

The knees are hugged to the stomach,
The toes now touch the dust on the ground,
See the arrival of hope hasn't been so easy.
The morning sun didn't come for many days,
...

and reaped in green terraces;
and sighs that make the pen sweat,
and the nails labor in drops of seeds;
beneath the tangled curls,
...

What then of Rain is heard?
Not the shape. Not what It sounds like.
The world now stays far,
far off the nakedness,
...

There reaches a time:
When blood refuses to marry the body;
When eyes tremble across the periphery;
When the morning dew is endeared with torn grass;
...