‘Love is self-generating / Nimble and uninhibited’: Read three poems by writer Iffat Nawaz

Freedom: refunded

Sometimes
I am
Burdened by my
Independence
I have sold it a
Few times.
Unable to carry
It’s light and
Heavy weight
“Take it,
I am yours.”
I handed over the keys
With plain and
Elaborate locks.

I bargained before
Handing my freedom
Over
“With negotiation
Dirt-cheap feels
Expensive.’
I had read that
Nowhere
But heard it
Somewhere
For sure.

After every sell
I felt a sense of
Relief
“Good then,
I don’t have to
Carry myself
anymore.”
I sighed and
Obliged happily to
Whatever my
New master demanded.
It was easier to
Drown in others’ miseries
Than my own.
Their problems
Appeared as good as fiction
And I played my part.

The problem started
A few months into
My wilful surrender.
The one who held the keys
Told me, my independence
Had a mind of its own
It didn’t listen
It fought a lot, even bit
Into hands and lips.
I admitted that I knew
Its nature
Its untamed whimsicalness
Its bloodthirsty acts
Its need to fly even when
Grounding was important.

In the end
No one wanted it.
My freedom.
It was always returned
A little tattered, in half broken boxes.
It stared at me apologetically
Asked me mutely to pick it up.
Twice I had to refund half the amount
I sold it for.
And once it was simply thrown back at me,
“Take this madness and just get out of here!”
They yelled.

My independence shook like a little child,
Holding on to my neck,
It hid and buried its face in my breasts.
With tired feet I walked back
Looking for the last home
We had made together.

“Please don’t sell me again”
It begged me,
“I promise I will only help
From now on.”
My freedom’s promise felt genuine.

At night we sat side by side
On our old rooftop
Our feet dangled.
People from the streets looked up.
Someone yelled for us to
Not sit so close to the edge.
And we both giggled
At each worried warning
From below.
We blew
Bubbles into the
Night’s moon-thick air
Until we both became
The exact same weight
And could carry
Each other.
Freedom’s body –
a dozen bricks
Mine – a hollow
Cloud’s drape.

Love: backward

When I was
Not very young
And far from feeling old
Someone told me
To measure love
Carefully
With weighing machines
And lined cups
Millilitres and kilograms
And in kilometres too
To keep track of how much
Love weighs, stretches
And makes one walk
So I could find my way
Counting the footsteps,
It was important to
Backtrack.

“Keep your love close,
Hold it tight, contain it.
Don’t let others see it
Most of all, be cautious
With your expression of love
When you speak to the one you
Love
Don’t let them know how you
Feel
Fully.”
I was advised.

I have been storing love
Immense love
Between my collarbones
And arteries
In my left lung
Upper rib cages
And behind my
Knees.

I am
Running out of
storage space
Yet Love dares
To grow
Then four days ago
Love spoke up
Telling me to
Loosen my hold.
“Let me seep out of your
Pores
If I walk out through your skin
Into blues and green
And even into polluted smoke
I will grow much more
Won’t cram your inside
Won’t threaten to
Burst open your core.”

I heard Love
But forgot all about
Its needs.
Then this morning
When my body was shaking
From trying to hold on
To some love-caused agony,
I cut a slit above my heart
With my fingertips
I drew a triangle
And asked Love to walk.
It flooded out of me
In an abundant
Uncalculated flow
Like rivers with its wind
It travelled without a shore.

“Love has left me!”
I cried, I screamed.
As I saw my Love
Growing, expanding
Into something much more.

Then I heard
More Love
Tiptoeing inside
Was it old or new?
It was
Sprouting among
Memories of
Forest dews.
How much love was
I capable of
“How much of you
Remain in there?”
I inquired impatiently.
“More than you will
Even fathom,”
Love answered,
Again growing into
Plants and trees
Spurring out of my
Open slits
Finger drawn
And broken boundaries.

I let Love be.

Now it’s not yet afternoon
As I half-sleep and half-dream
As Love tells me
To forget about Love
That –
Love is self-generating
Nimble and uninhibited,
That –
There was never a need
For my intervention.

Love smiles
With a hand
On my forehead
It whispers
“You sleep.”
It closes the door,
Slipping under
The covers with me
It coats my body
With fragrance of
The rain, wet leaves,
Unkempt flowers, and camphor.

I feel it has feathers
And wings
And soft toes
On rough-edged feet.
Love holds me
And breaks my
Outdated instincts
“You had it backward,
I was supposed to
Engulf you
And not you, me.”

I nod like a
Child
“Understood,”
I mumble.
Love buries me
In its heart.
I speak to you
From there now.

“How soon will
This way of
Living become
A habit?
I had always
Been IN Love?”
What took
You so long
To tell me?”
I ask,
As Love
Outlines
Its future births
All over me.

Limerence

Sometimes
Your words fall on me
Like rain.

You take less
Breaths in between
Sentences than
Anyone I know.

I want to crawl into your chest
and not fall asleep all night
but rest till our bodies abide by
The same ebbs and flows.

Will you hold me till
The world ends?
Sometimes I wish
The world would end
Tomorrow so we wouldn’t
Have to go through
A self-created end
But be annihilated
While in love.