By Momina Raza
DREAM OF A LANGUAGE
In a far away estranged land,
my bones do not carry my mother's grief.
It no longer weighs me down,
worn-out threads beg to reach you.
Language was born between us,
out of silence and longing. Yet, I speak it
alone. When the wilted flowers bloom,
I'd like to believe that you think of me.
Every poem I write is a torn hem
I keep stitching wrong – maybe, one day, I’ll get it right.
But for now, I dream of a language
that can hold our longing in a poem.
A lark tries to sing our aubade
that the world has forgotten.
Maybe, in this far away estranged world,
I have a love that refuses to leave my body.
Momina Raza is a poet from Lahore. Her works have appeared in The Aleph Review, PoemsIndia, Jashn Anthology vol 2 and other literary journals. She has read her poems at the Lahore Literary Festival and Lakeer Kahaniyaan. You can find her on Instagram @momina17_.
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