chasing happiness

all my soul is searching for

is the sickly sweet scent

of a smile

whether a loved ones

or a stranger’s

a daringly delicious drop

the good ol’ kind of contagious

–

*image from MOMA exhibit*

Zuha Anjum 2020 ©

summer winds

yesterday a Wind roared vehemently,

as if trying to pass directly through me

as it maneuvered past me,

it stirred a storm in the shallows of my brain

how were already in the middle of July,

yet only a few moments ago we were awaiting the comforting acquaintance of the Summer warmth

and as the Wind disappeared,

it left behind chills that transformed the mild storm into a raging Tempest

–

Zuha Anjum 2020 ©

you

of the dreams I spin in the slumber of my eyes,

I see you solemnly walking by.

the colors you wear tempt my eyes

and I can’t help myself and be drawn

like a moth to an aged street light.

no matter wherever my footsteps travel

I cannot but help to follow your beautiful fire,

for its radiance mirrors the exact shade of my inner flame

–

Zuha Anjum 2020 ©

the sun

my buzzing mind suddenly goes blank

and the days troubles are forgotten

the wrinkles in my forehead

finally begin to adjust

to the commotion of my thoughts

as in they [my thoughts] become more meaningful

and less worrisome

perhaps it’s because the sun has stopped

intimidating me

and finally started to go away

it’s brightly obnoxious glares are now tired

and I don’t feel worthless

under its scrutinizing gaze

but it will be back tomorrow

to remind me that I have to follow the

circle of life just like it has to

and in that way

we are alike

even though we are millions of miles away

–

© Zuha Anjum, 2020

dry-erase

they think,

that their mocking words words are mere sounds

that will flow into the universe

and entertain evil laughter

not realizing that the sweet sugar-coated swords-

they pierce me with,

leave an open wound,

one that does not heal itself in a few nights,

it does not forget

for words aren’t dry erase

they are unfortunately permanent

so do not treat your tongue as a cutting weapon,

use it to spread Love

© Zuha Anjum, 2020

thirst

a lone wanderer,

walking in the middle of the dessert

with no direction in mind

filled with thirst

a tyrannous one,

the sort you feel when you wake up in the middle of the night,

the gripping thirst that forces you out of the comfortable,

cloudy folds of your blanket

and so his thirst causes him to sway

and alas a mystical oasis appears,

but he walks away

for water, was not the source of his thirst

you see, he yearned for Love,

one that captured his soul and ignited a fire within him

a fire that had flames of passion,

but left ashes of peace,

and so the traveler kept walking

and swaying

© Zuha Anjum, 2020

crossroads

right

no

left

no

which way should I turn?

can I stand here longer?

should I stand here longer?

the thoughts drift through my mind,

as if a there was a leak in my boat,

and I didn’t know from where.

water was rapidly entering everywhere-

I had run around for a while trying to figure out where it had come from

but now I simply stood,

awaiting, what a beautiful word

for I realized that maybe I should swim

instead of aimlessly running around,

looking for a way

when the way had already been decided

and was kindly awaiting me

Zuha Anjum 2020 ©

looking glass questions

staring in the mirror

to see yourself staring at you

but who is you

the mirror self

or the self viewing the mirror self

but how is the viewing self sure

that it is viewing

and not being viewed

for living

doesn’t mean u have Lived

–

Zuha Anjum 2020

–

Zuha Anjum 2020