By Ahmed Latif
Not a crafted image but much more flawed.
The scent of that endless guilt and those nameless dawns.
Toothless smiles surrounded by a convenient amnesia.
An unquenched curiosity and an unbridled enmity.
Home, an idea besieged by the sea.
Dreams of the sea always ended with me drowning.
Strolling alongside the walls of time.
Silence, a diversion from the festering cracks.
With no disguises left, there is nothing to see.
Wherever neighbourliness dies, only flags of anguish fly.
You are the seed I no longer see from the branches.
You are the dream I pull from the ashes.