SYNESTHESIA 2020

(waqt) do                                                                                                                     [give time]

 

they say

in due time

all will be in the tiny universe

of our palms.

 

at our fingertips

do the globes of an era lie

wonders

you and i

do not know of.

 

at our feet

is the expanse of an

ocean--

both

nameless and named

differently,

every second.

 

in this chase of time

do we hear the skies

of our thundering thoughts

            rumble by.

 

in the pursuit of moments

do we feel the eyes

of the darkest nights

consume us.

 

We wait

for our calls,

eagerly but in silence.

And we dare

roll our eyes

in annoyance.

 

This tug at our chest,

This tingle in our legs,

The tumbling of my abdomen,

 

            the time is

                        telling us

something.

 

what does time give us now

that before, it didn't?

 

do we waste away in waiting

for the time

when we can gladly

say that

indeed, all has arrived?

 

or is it all here,

in this time,

we sometimes

unknowingly

deny?

 

give it time, they say.

 

Time heals wounds

no medicine can dream of.

 

Time seals wounds

who's scars are

thought to be

permanent.

 

Time deals with our souls

as we bargain for more minutes.

 

Time reels in memories

and preserves frozen seconds.

 

Time kneels every moment

and we forget to knight

the very thing given

and gifted to each and all

by God's glorious

graciousness.

 

Time reveals great thorns where

we expected flowers to bloom.

 

Time feels heavy

and guilty.

But in all due time,

it's supposed to feel

surreal.

 

They suppose

that time arose

with every dawn,

unforsaken.

 

Give time to yourself

but do not forget to give

Time to others, too.

 

Our time will come

and our time is here now,

too.

 

do justice to time

and i hope all

do it unto you.

 

The era of you and I

is the time

i breath before and

the time

you believe tonight.

 

the clock strikes two in the morning

and the chime's strokes

fill the emptiness of the night.

and the voice of time

fills our own voids

both out and inside.

​

 

(waqt) do is from my poetry collection, Zamana, which explores the intersection of language, culture, gender, relations as well as the modern and historical identity of “everyday” people, narrowing specifically on the South Asian demographic. The titles of the poems find an English word to accent the one used in Urdu. The meanings are sometimes completely unrelated but I try to draw a poetic connection. The beauty of this language is that it is so similar to others such as Hindi, Punjabi, Gujarati, etc, that the words are still understood by those who are not native Urdu speakers. This poem uses the word “waqt do” meaning “give time” in Urdu and perhaps hides the Urdu aspect in brackets yet it actually accentuates the mysteriousness of the title. The “do” in “waqt do” refers to the word “do” in the English language. This poem discusses how creativity impacts the world and time, a theme of the book as zamana means both “time” and “the world”.

 

Check out Zamana on Amazon here: https://bit.ly/zamana-2019