Night’s eyes are cold.
Between the blazing-shimmering city’s lights
And me,
A whole world of difference lies.
Those lights seem like visions of doom,
Acquainting me with my fallen: past, present.

 

Arrows of grief emerge.
Once more, it is time for a burial.
However, the importance of tears is lost,
Because this burial is not a special event –
Just another funeral-night,
Simply feeding upon my sleeplessness.

 

Cut to the quick, the approaching moon dips
Into the clouds.
Ah, another friend lost within my brain!
Longing to be absorbed, the lonesome wind ruffles my hair.
Floating on a wave of sand –
Night’s eyes are cold.

 

 

Dubai
March 2007

 

Geeta Chhabra

 

From the book: An Indian Ode To The Emirates by Geeta Chhabra.