Unpublished Poem Poem by Asad Zaidi

A poem already bad gets even worse.

No mortal effort can improve it.
Effort spoils it even more.
It turns ever murkier –
a permanent mishap.
All writings have to take a long detour
around it.

How should I treat that inert, lead-like heavy body
before which all poems that finally appear look
like mere butterflies,
and all criticism
mere ashes.

Among the humans it recognizes
me alone.
And I too am human only so long as I remain
human.