There I was grounded to the base of my domain,
Arms at my side, motionless but heart still beating.
My mind not aware of the totality that exists beyond me.
Pursuing this innate ability to momentarily erase my existing conscience,
But it would still be readily accessible once the drums ensue.
I try to escape my dearest demons, running through their fictitious maze,
The the trumpets sound, my calling is now.
The jarring ache of the percussion vibrates through my half awake mind.

I am awake.

I was never the type
of child that obeyed
much  of anything;
not even the many
times  I was told
not to stare into
the evening sun
when I felt
alone.

I do not like the feeling of
examination,
of eyes burning on my back
as if you are a small match
and I am the bushfire
you wish to light...
I do not like the feeling of
obssessive observation,
I do not like privacy violation,
I do not like the feeling of claustrophobia,
I do not like claustrophobia because
it doesn't cease to exist by simply
removing ten people from one room.
I do not like claustrophobia because
sometimes your own mind is enough
to provoke a certain type
of wanderlust,
the kind where you run away
and leave everyone to rot and rust.
I do not like claustrophobia
because when I am alone,
it can never be enough alone,
it feels like the walls of my room
are breathing on my neck;
they're laughing at me,
declaring this poet insane,
it is the most crowded type of alone
until somebody, something
sedates my brain
and you call me "suggestive anxiety"
it's all in your head,
you're a game of chance
and I'm taking a guess;
you know my face but
you know nothing about my name.

In the line of Abraham and Ismail took a sacrifice
To save the truth from the hands of falsehood, vice
Imam Hussain along with seventy two paid the price
Which made their direct path  enlightened to paradise

Truth encountered falsehood with force of faith, belief
For sake of eternity humanity saved by decision of chief
As a verdict of God it was but an eternal declared relief
Blood of innocents for times to come became eternal grief

Till edge of eternity blood  of martyrs blossom to celebrate
The battle of Karbala as a symbol of sacrifice is event great
No one no words can  ever be able to its essence translate
Only staunch and true lovers can associate and ameliorate

Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2016 Golden Glow