Beyond Comprehension

Some wounds don't hurt,
Some wounds don't bleed;
Some wounds don't look,
As they would heal.

They just reside,
Somewhere deep inside;
Corroding your happiness,
Even though, out of sight.

Like shards of glass,
They cut and pierce;
Tearing apart the joy,
And peace, that was there.

Neither you, nor the world sees why,
The hollow that is created inside;
The pain is beyond comprehension,
What oozes out, is only a fraction.

अश्कों की सौग़ात

उम्मीदों का कत्ले-आम ,
मुहब्बत का जनाज़ा ,
दर्द का पैग़ाम ,
बेशक़ीमती तोहफ़ों की यह खान  … 

अश्कों की सौग़ात ,
दे गये वो अल्फ़ाज़ ,
जिनसे हमारी धड़कन ,
कभी मिलाती थी साज़  … 

Face of Adversity

Its deep and dark,
Inside the well;
Excruciating,
Just like hell.

The surface is,
A bed of thorns,
And pierced stones,
That make you bleed
With pain, and groan.

The walls are,
Slimy and filthy,
That make you tumble,
Whenever you
Try to clamber.

Stifling with
An air of oppression,
Sweltering with
The heat of suppression.

No ray of hope shines,
No shower of mercy pours,
No sign of escape appears,
No one answers knocks on the doors.

Afflicted by disaster,
Brutally tortured;
Here you are made to,
Go through the wringer.

A trap it is,
Which sucks you vehemently;
Leaving you traumatized,
In the face of adversity.

Souvenir of Pain

She knew she'd find,
Under the wraps,
Cruelties of the world;
Alone she came,
And alone, had to return.

Was not shocked,
But just saddened;
This was exactly,
She knew would happen.

Found companions,
While going up the hill;
But no one to hold her hand,
When she stumbled down.

The world was busy,
Jostling to move ahead;
No one cared,
What broke, and, what was shred.

The bruises that were seen,
Evoked sympathy momentarily,
In the eyes of passers-by;
But none could see,
The stabbing pain,
That made her heart cry.

No howls were heard,
No tears were seen,
No ill feelings were bred,
Just,
A souvenir of pain,
And a heavy sigh,
Was all, that was left.

Soul that was Maimed

Burning in flames,
Without any fire,
As on a pyre.

Dead cold as snowball,
That does not thaw,
As in a morgue.

Ruptured, bruised and,
Dull it looked;
The broken chord,
Made the music mute.

A deep cut,
Without any blood;
No oozing out;
It was all kept,
Under a shroud.

The scathing pain,
Was unbearable again;
This time,
It was the soul,
That was maimed.

Gift of Grief

Freezing the blood gushing through veins;
Pausing the thoughts running in the brain.

Rendering all colors, as colorless;
Making dark, even the brightest.

Robbing you of all the valuables;
Making poor, even the richest.

Clouding all the joy and happiness,
In the mist of gloom and sadness.

It does it all,
Corrodes even a rock.
Comes like a visitor,
With a gift of grief,
Its - Loneliness on a spree.