To Him Who Can’t Be Named

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To him who can’t be named

To him who can’t be named

By the deepening lines on his forehead

When he looks intensely at something new

I interpret my dreams

By the arches of his eyebrows

when he scowls at something critically

I never hold back my laugh

In the deepening dimples of his cheeks

When he speaks vehemently with passion

I fight the urge to fall asleep

But everything I feel

To him I have never said a word

There is a heavy price for my silence

I shall have to pay

Its silence or parting

And I

Have chosen well.

***

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Contributed by:

Maryam H. Viqar

A seeker, dreamer, scribbler, reader, writing poetry about grief, loss, rain, autumn, nocturnal silence, hope and sometimes love…and yes ‘the sight of the stars makes me dream’ too….

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