But all must be endured, since even a poor
soul too is made of fire and ice-
while a part of me gets dismantled in silence
the other half keeps gathering my shards to
go on living.
My frenzied heart seeks the god mesmerized
by your honeyed words-
I hold my tongue that craves to expand its hood
at mere sight of you-
your tinkling laughter at sweet nothings
sets my voice to fume;
yet I compel it to devour a sacred silence
to burst forth in words later-
While you make the god to look into your eyes
a flame in me runs wild
to dip my spirit into a black fluid; to make
your god my muse-
My poem is a response to Sappho’s apparently incomplete poem : In my eyes he matches the gods
Posted for Sanaa’s Wild Friday @ Poets United
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