Haze Poem by Hanan Muzafar

Fault made a raft to sail away,
carts moving down the road,
cello wavering in chaos,
id talking to ego,
'How can it stand,
when it's meant to fall'
Cold is the wind these days.

Voices roaming,
through every desert and street,
like smoke trapped in space—
All alone,
to carry souls far away,
for a place where trees emit shade.

A warrior with a heart of saint,
bones made of courage,
filled with faith—
Healer for sufferers,
and hope for wanderers;
What belongs, often fades away.

Horse running wild,
through burning fields: for fate,
and dove in cage,
whispering hymns: for grace—
Lost ones, broken and hurt,
Saying
'What we had, and what we became'
Stream engulfed in haze.