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[sadafternoons]

I am not here

*

I have always written I am here. Those of you who have joined me on Zoom know these three words. But from now onwards I am happy to say otherwise. Listening to @davidshigham, Inspired me to see beyond the blue.

*

I see it

My heart pure

As a sheet of rain on a tile

Reflecting the blue

Of a dimension

That doesn’t exist

And I step out of it

And know

I am

Always was

Always will be

Nothing.

*

30.3.2024

[sadafternoons]

The wooden heart

*

Light has surprised me with its many manifestations in many experiences that I have written about in my poems. And here is another one that struck a chord.

*

The slabs of wooden tiles

On the floor of my balcony

Are thick

Like my heart

Opaque

And do not have the capacity to reflect

A higher reality

And

Transcend

The inherent limitations

Of their physical and chemical structure

Within which they are defined

Solidly

Since

What seems to me

To be

Forever.

*

However

In the early morning hours

After a night of showers

I see through

A tile or two

And look again

At the sheet of rain

That transforms its opacity

And increases its capacity

To become

Translucent

Like a mirror

A glimmer

Of Light

And reflect the width and breadth and height

Of the multiple dimensions that come with it.

*

And all I can do

Is pray to the One

Who can transform the view

Without touching the physical and chemical structures

Of a wooden tile

To transform me too.

And rid me of the ignorance

And the arrogance

That cloud my mirror

And do not allow it to glimmer

To be translucent enough

To hold the Light

And reflect the width and breadth and height

Of the multiple dimensions of Nothing

That are waiting for me to find them

Since forever.

*

24.03.2024

[sadafternoons]

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Sadaf Haider Khan (@sad.afternoons)

[sadafternoons]

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Sadaf Haider Khan (@sad.afternoons)

[sadafternoons]

One dollar at a time.

*

I stand before the Cadbury’s Picnic Bar

And hesitate

It’s one dollar only

My favourite

With a perfect blend of all that I like

A bit of crunch

And a lot of that gooey sticky sweetness

Of honey and chocolate

That melts oh so perfectly in the mouth.

*

But today

I hesitate

Cadbury’s put all its products

On half price in Coles

Desperate for sales to go up

Is it for families who wish to get the best bargains

For their children

For those little hands that wish to save for their trick or treating

On Halloween?

*

And as I think of little hands

My heart sinks

For I know

That somewhere

In another part of an occupied land

Someone has no hesitation

In reducing little hands to

A bit of crunch

And a lot of that gooey sticky blood

The kind that hardens like chocolate

*

And I make a choice

And do not buy it

I do not wish to add

One dollar

To the millions

Being spent

To fill the pool of blood

With little hands

Being tricked this Halloween

Through the sale of each half priced Cadbury’s Picnic bar.

*

21.10.2023

#StopPalestinianGenocide

[sadafternoons]

One last time

*

I watch

As you try this option

The one in which you

Live and work in Australia

For perhaps a year

Preferably less

Just enough to tick the box

Of family affairs

One last time

*

And in this while

You hope to oversee

Your children’s transitions

Out of the house

Into their worlds

As they all eagerly prepare

To leave the nest

That you built for them

One last time

*

And as they prepare to leave

So do you

Hoping in your heart

It doesn’t take too long

Before you can finally unite

With the one

Who is waiting for you

On the other side

One last time.

*

And I see it

All

And I know

I must be here

Not to alter this reality

But to live it

And watch it

Play itself out

One departure at a time

*

And even though

No one has said a word

I can see

The quiet impatience

With which

Everyone awaits

The moment

That will set them free

One last time.

*

7.10.2023

[sadafternoons]

The Present

This photo was taken enroute to the Tesselaar Tulip festival, near Melbourne, in the car with my dear friend, Rabia, and reminded me of a poem I wrote in 2017, published in my book in 2021, and revisited today in 2023. And as I did, I stumbled upon this present.

The Present

*

What we write

And leave like pressed flowers

In the books we put together

Brings us back

To the truths

That we had the fortune of

Stumbling upon

Ever so briefly

Once upon a time.

*

And when we do

We see them

Reflected clearly

In the mirrors of the past

As a present

We left for ourselves

To open

When we most need it

In the future.

*

1.10.2023

The light from the window reminded me of this poem, I wrote.

Here it is:

Khan, 2021, ‘The Prism’. On sadafternoons: A pool of orange and other poems, Singapore: Partridge. Pg 40-41.

The Prism

*

And there are times when I think

I am alone

And there’s no one beside me

When I hear

The whole universe whisper

I am here

*

The laws of the universe

Hold me together

And with each breath

I take in

The effort of a million trees

Standing tall

Since forever to sustain me.

*

And I bask

In a sun’s light

That travels

Through eons of empty space

Dodging a host of material obstructions

In its determination

To reach me

*

And I see it all

And I empty my heart and mind of the ingratitude

That prevents me from acknowledging the love

And let it pass through me

Like a prism

Knowing it is bound to light me up

In all the bright places.

*

1.10.2023

[sadafternoons]

Meat on a stick

*

Reality

Is a sharp knife

That carves its way

Through the layers

*

Till it has quartered, diced and prepared

Everything

That has been sacrificed

For human consumption

*

And I stand there and watch

As you take your time

Deciding

Which would be the most succulent

*

And I see you

Struggle

With the weight of the decision

That you cannot take

*

And I know

I am no longer interested

In waiting for you to choose me

Like the meat on a stick

*

That has

Surrendered

To the reality of its

Consumption

*

And is waiting for you

To assign it a spot

In the feast you have prepared

To grace your table.

*

16.09.2023

[sadafternoons]

On my way to work

One of the things about mornings is the the creative rush. Today, I had to stop and voice record this poem, rushing through my head as I drove to work. Three days later, here it is, in its final form.

*

Raindrops

Tremble

On the bonnet of the car

As I leave for work

*

I notice

The slightest of tremors

As I pick up speed

And drive down Windsor Road

*

I see them wobble

And shake

In their pregnant orbs

Turgid and full

*

Glued like translucent pebbles

Across the white gleaming surface

Of the bonnet

Holding on as if to stay

*

And yet

As I turn left into Pennant Street

Physics makes them

Lean left

*

And I see their wombs

Swell to the side

Unable to stop the momentum

From taking over

*

I see them shiver

As they try not to spill

At the seams

All that is held onto ever so delicately

*

And as I slow down and stop

At a red light

I feel myself sigh

As they settle into a stillness

*

But not for long

For I have to turn right

At the round about

Of New Line Road

*

And within a moment

The sparkling rays of the early morning sun

Has kissed and filled

Each turgid crystal orb wth starry light

*

And as soon as I turn onto

Pennant Hills road

And speed up to 70

I tremble as the pressure builds

*

And before long I see

A stream of raindrops

Take a leap of faith

And break through the surface tension

*

Shoot like a star

And form a perfect arc

From the bonnet

Onto the windscreen

^

And soon

More of them

Father the courage

Needed

*

To jump

Leave behind their burdens

Take wings

And escape

*

And I see

Many smaller sized droplets of rain

Balance themselves ever so delicately

On the incline of the windscreen

*

No longer

Trembling

Shaking

Or wobbling

*

Lighter

Free of the pressure

And the need to hold on

They are happy to let go

*

And spill

Into tear drops

The kind which effortlessly slip

Down the cheek of the windscreen

*

And as they trickle

Thinning to a thread of water

It becomes easier

To take to air

*

And disappear

On the wings

Of the next kiss

Of an August morning breeze

*

And as I turn into Woollcott Avenue

And park the car at Leo’s

I see for one last time

This unfinished story

*

Knowing

When I return

At the end

Of my day at work

*

There will be no sign

Or trace

Of the existence

Or the ordeal

*

The courage

Or the leap of faith

That a few drops of rain

Took

*

On the bonnet

And the windscreen

Of the car

On my way to work.

*

27.08.2023

[sadafternoons]

No one here

*

There’s a stillness

in the heart

That no one can

Disturb

With a knock, or a kick or a bang

*

I hold it

Like a pool

Full of nothing

And disappear

In its murky depths

*

Away

From the noise of thought

And emotion

And surrender to the anonymity

It offers

*

And as I lose myself

I leave my breath behind

And rise

Without body

Without mind

*

Into the embrace

That holds me

Still

Without beginning or end

There’s no one here.

*

10.8.2023

[sadafternoons]

One more time

*

I see a rainbow

And say

Look love

That’s a sign

It’s going to be okay.

*

And let’s just

Forgive and forget

And move forward

There’s so much

To be grateful for

*

And we both try

And pretend

That everything is all right

And there is no one else

Between us

*

Blocking the path

To the heart

Which is now empty

Of all

That it was once full of.

*

And each time

I feel my heart

Sink

With the weight of the emptiness

It has been carrying for so long

*

I see you

Trying to do the same

And all I can do

Is brew for both of us

A cup of coffee

*

And hope

It’s warmth will slowly

Fill

What is now

Empty

*

And we can learn to

Live

Love

And let go

One more time.

*

7.08.2023

[sadafternoons]

Empty and full

*

For those who are torn between two worlds

*

The footsteps of the one

Your heart has chosen

To love

Enter into rooms

That have remained empty

For too long.

*

And as they enter

You feel

Full

And as they leave

You feel

Empty

*

It is a beautiful wound

Having them

And not having them.

Of not being sure

If they are yours for now

Or for ever.

*

And the uncertainty

Throbs and aches

Like pain

That has decided to

Settle

In your knees

*

And it continues

To hurt

As you try

And decide

If you should walk towards them

Or away.

*

And though

You convince yourself

You are fine

And it’s okay

To move on

Without them

*

Their footsteps

Continue to echo

In those rooms

In which you

Once lived

And loved

*

And as you stop

And linger

Outside the doors of memory

Wondering

If you should enter

Or leave

*

Your knees hurt

And give in

And you try to reduce the discomfort

And massage them

With that balm

A little bit more

*

And you feel

The slow release

Of a sweet agony

Each time you rub it in circles

Carefully covering

Each tender spot

*

And you try and pretend

It has nothing to do

With the footsteps of pain

That are forever circling

The rooms of your heart

That are now empty

And were once full

*

18.07.2023

[sadafternoons]

Rebels with a cause

Inspired by the snow capped mountains of Remarkables Mountain Range Queenstown.

*

I watch it fall

Not at once

Like rain

*

But slowly

One snowflake

At a time

*

As it settles

On their hoary heads

Like icing sugar

*

And as I step out

And take in the severity

Of the drop

*

And embrace the likelihood

Of freezing

Between temperatures of -1 and 1.

*

I am not rattled

By the icy needles

The wind whiplashes into my face

*

I walk with a firmer step

Like a winter queen

At home

*

In the heart

Of a remarkable

Little town

*

Surrounded

And guarded

By the white headed giants

*

Who silently watch

As I luge through

Its aquamarine waters

*

And drop down into its valleys

And swing

Between its gorges

*

And try to

Live a little more

And fear a little less

*

Till I have embraced

All that a freezing winter offers

Its rebels with a cause

*

3.07.2023

[sadafternoons]

They say

They say

You’re a player

And you have all the cards

In your hands

And there is no way

That I can

Match the moves

Of your scheming mind

And win

*

I listen

In silence

And I see

All the autumn leaves

Strewn like bruises

In a mulberry sunset

Across the bridge

That was once built

With so much love

*

I clear my path

And cross that bridge

To the other side

I don’t look back

And keep moving

Forward

For I am not interested

Anymore

In what they say.

*

12.06.2023

[sadafternoons]

The Lotus

Yesterday, I wandered into a part of Imam Raza’s holy shrine, in Mashhad, Iran, to a place which I had not gone to before. And it inspired me to write and find a wormhole to the pool in the Immaculate garden of a Franciscan Friary, near my home in Sydney, with its red and gold fishes. And so much more.

*

It was in the middle

Of another

Unfamiliar courtyard

Of the holy mosque

A long walk away

From my epicentre

That I found

A fountain

Flowing water

Filling the 8 petals

Of a lotus

To the brim

Without spilling

*

I dipped my fingers

In the translucent water

Cold

And restless

In the marbled stones

Of each leaf

Full

In the heat

Of this deserted courtyard

*

I did not know

Before this moment

That I had been waiting

Waiting

To find

The lotus

In the desert

That was missing

From an Immaculate garden

In another epicentre

In another world

*

With its red and gold fishes

Dashing

In its murky depths

Restlessly

Like ideas

Waiting

To become things

*

15.04.2023

[sadafternoons]

The spirit orb

*

On daylight savings

*

The Quest holds me

For a night

Like a spirit orb

In

The last of the nights of the month

Before an hour of it

Is sucked into the black hole

Of time

And it hovers

Over the rim

For an eternity

Before it disappears

In an instant

Just like you

Without a trace

*

An hour

In the larger scheme of things

Between an instant and an eternity

Is but a grain of sand

A drop of rain

A star in the galaxy of time

Indistinguishable

Insignificant

Untraceable

*

I reach out

And pluck it

And hold it

Like a spirit orb

On the tip of my finger

Knowing

In another dimension

This hour

Is all I need

To hold all of me

And my quest

In a forever that is

Untraceable

And away from April’s fool

And his treachery.

*

1.04.2023