After War

It is silence
I do not want to hear music
I can not listen to a child cry
I forget the last hour
I do not recognize my clothes
Except my bra that was somehow
a topic of public discussions ..
It was shown like a fetish
I remember my name , but it does not
have a meaning to me ..
I may have to try and write an autobiography
to find the meaning
I have lost all the links…
Whenever I tried , I only got suspicious
mob attacks of concealed laughter
They seem to think in Black and White
Mobile tune of some movie where a woman
thinks ordinary love is filled with
extraordinary coincidences
makes sense in the context of hate…
And also dance of destruction
just pretend you are referring
patients to a doctor
Then pretend she just tumbled out
of a cinema screen
Why , where …I can not process
People keep smiling derisively
When I allude to sympathetic hyper arousal
that blocks some signals to the brain
Why do I use jargon
that is misinterpreted
By Oxford English Dictionary readers?
For whom all excitement is
only between the legs..
I am told to avoid meetings
by a police officer
My red car is sold overnight
My keys are stolen
… think all of this was because
I was avoiding sex….
And they thought that is all I ever did….
What will Malala achieve?
A mob capable of educated,strategic harassment?
Or a mob taking acid
singing we don’t need no education?
After civil war there are no flowers
Nothing bleeds
just a long numb road
or a wheel that is reinvented
As if nothing happened……

3 thoughts on “After War

  1. i like the way the words “tune of some movie where a woman/thinks ordinary love is filled with/extraordinary coincidences/makes sense in the context of hate …” capture the irony between words/action and reality. strange how precaution is a beacon that attracts violation. nice poem!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Very touching. Can’t say it nice as the fact, you narrated here, makes my blood boil. I appreciate your courage to write this naked truth in this way.


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