(after: ‘A Prison Evening’, by Faiz Ahmed Faiz)
“.. This thought keeps consoling me:
though tyrants may command that lamps be smashed
in rooms where lovers are destined to meet,
they cannot snuff out the moon …”
             *****
In a still solitary, now toilet-less cell,
but with real pacing room,
the relative freedom
facilitates clearer thinking.
My mind is on fire
searching for that happy nexus of
passion, skills, interests,
not mine, but ours.
But how can I track those
without pen and paper?
The ideas flow, envisioning
macro and micro details.
Not just to pass the time,
nor keep the brain from sinking
into the despairing hopelessness
of a future without hope.
Another cell circuit walked and another layer,
another possibility, rises up within the comfort
of these constraining walls, because
I am no circus animal, no cowboy toy,
no blue-eyed boy whose heart of joy
confuses and amuses my captors.
I have gratefully glimpsed that unsnuffed Moon¹
from within this new latitude,
and am consoled by Faiz’ imprisoned vision,
his rung of stars, the breeze,
and his embroidering glimpses of trees.
So strangely sweet.
             *****
¹ ‘A Prison Evening’, by Pakistani poet, Faiz Ahmed Faiz, truly helped keep me sane, when facing the solitary madness of detention without trial.
