Rent In Twain
The eagle within me dreams of soaring
Above aught that in earth-tied eyes may gleam:
Plucking the richest prey out of the plain
To the echo of wails and vain roaring;
Brooding over the talon-scarred bones,
Adding daily more tokens of the slain,
Vaunting each triumph with a savage scream;
Queen of a lofty realm all of hushed stones.
The sparrow within me dreams of making
Its nest soft and stout for the coming brood:
Watching fluffy cheeping heads thrust their way
Out of their shells, the sleepy eyes taking
Stock of a world kept kind by anxious care;
Feeding, guarding, teaching them til the day
When, brim-full of nest-dreams, into the wood
They fly, and leave it to longingly stare.
What one begins to make the other mars,
Down to torpor all dreams they dull;
The eagle in me with the sparrow wars,
And the sparrow with the eagle.
This House Believes …
In true v truthy, this house knows which one
It would fain doubt;
But 'twas the truthy, truthier, truthiest
Who kept truthiness out.
This house believes in honouring the past
And marching on;
In bidding our children too not restore
What's left when we are gone.
This house believes love is not the answer,
But the question.
This house accepts the right of the flower
To transform into fruit.
Hibah Shabkhez is a writer of the half-yo literary tradition, an erratic language-learning enthusiast, and a happily eccentric blogger from Lahore, Pakistan. Her work has previously appeared in Wellington Street Review, Black Bough, Nine Muses, Borrowed Solace, Ligeia, Cordite Poetry, and a number of other literary magazines. Studying life, languages and literature from a comparative perspective across linguistic and cultural boundaries holds a particular fascination for her.