Chinar
A chronicle of ail of the Vale
under the green and honey canopy
graves and gardens grew
what shadows! What shades!
Beneath the mount of natural vast
tombstone of many a Syeds
now that a hideout of hides and hallows
and in their hollow bellies
buds and bullets in a ritual share,
the serum of soul and blood of yore.
On the verbs of honey
what whisper has evoked the deity
that at midnight in human gown
reaches to every town
where, a seesaw and rope
had a limb bothered and hanged.
No more supernaturals live
under its shade,
but a conflict
like the date of death
invisible on Syed’s headstone