It happens.
Day by day, year by year
Translucence of dreaming eyes
Trickle down drop by drop
With memories of husband
and son.
One left half way
When the moon was full.
Another withered
Before becoming young.
She searches
In all corners of her
being
Their indelible footprints.
Steel nails pierced in walls
Holding blessings and springs
of smiles
In the luminous wedding hall.
Toddler’s wavy arty paintings
Hanging skewed on the
inner wall
Of her broken bleeding heart.
It happens and happens
very hard.
M Hasan
