For My Sister In Pakistan

A Poem

Image for post
Image for post
The Visit (The two sisters) by Pablo Picasso 1902. Public Domain

Rickshaw taking my Hindu grandfather
To his safe neighborhood
And death of his Muslim driver
On the border of what once was
And what wheels of black heart
Move towards
Will not write our story
My sister

The foreigner who hysterically
Drew our lines of breath
On pages of a map
That still cannot find
Its fathers or its children
Muddied in the blood
Splattered for a heaven
Painted by hallucinating hands
Will not write our story
My sister

Wars and wars and bodies and bodies
Of our brothers
Slayed by fearful men
For their diamond crowns
Their beast voices
Beating our soft whispering
Songs of a flag less earth
Will not write our story
My sister

What writes our story
Is me finding you
In the temple of books of cosmos
Some place far far away
Where sun sets late
In the home of our
Scientist of quantum magic
Fishing stars for us

In the dark alley that I get lost in
Where one distant voice
Always calls my name
saying I know you


Vaishali Paliwal

What can be said about a hopeless relationship of two counties that were once the same fabric. Now we just run around angry and dejected and entirely revengeful and entirely delusional. But none of that surpasses my love and respect for my sister in Pakistan breaking barriers for us and me here with her soft memory engraved in my bare heart, and so here we write a simple song of sisterhood no hatred, politics and toxicity can snatch from us. Heartbroken. but. Always optimistic. Always for only love.

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