White Sheets – Revolution Flame

Published in: Revolution Flame


Leaning back
At the hospital bed
Burying my head
in the pot of my hands

I mourn..
over unknown..

Unknown pain
Unknown desire
Unknown identities
The blurred screen
of past bleed
and the old physic
at the white sheets
lay soullessly…

Among the injections
The doctors
The drips
The white walls

My son is in the U.S of A
and I can make him a call
Anytime of the day
but sparing enough time is harder
and staying silent is better for me
’cause I know
I’ll utter poison
whenever I speak.

He’ll be back one day-
The day of my funeral
No, not to shoulder my corpse
but to collect the inherited money
and to mourn
No, not over my dead body
but on the quantity of money, I’ve left.

Maybe, some day he will recall me;
when he’ll be getting old
when he’ll be in the hospital
or when he’ll be dying like me!

Written By Zunaira Afzal

Photography By: Hmad Asghar


20 thoughts on “White Sheets – Revolution Flame

  1. The feeling of it being true. Just magnificently written, the choice of words and the emotions portrayed are well done.

    I don’t usually like/read poems that don’t have a good rhyme scheme, but some poems just look good even without a rhyme. Keep Writing. 🙂

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