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Maliha Iqbal: Poetry Collection


The air is charged with the

Approach of a thunderstorm

I gaze out of the window

At the clouds gathering

On the horizon,

Heavy with expectations

The wind seems to whisper

That I have let people down

The stink of emotions rotting away

In the corners of the room

Makes me wish for the storm

To strike me down

If for nothing else

Then to make me feel something

If for nothing else

Then to replenish my tear ducts

I gaze out of the window

And those clouds are still

Staring darkly at me

But they can’t hurt me

Because I can’t feel anything

It’s a stalemate.

Is it My Fault?

it isn’t madness

to hear voices

all the time

when you feel

watched by the moon

on lonely walks

at midnight

everything seems to

sprout eyes

that watch you

trying to escape

their suggestions

shadows hurry away

from the windows

as you pass by

their chattering is

a constant ringing

in your ears

hands reach out

to paint your skin

in blinding shades of white

to measure your waist

to tell you it’s your fault

you can hear them whispering

behind closed doors

mother passes on

her silence and pain

in this relay race

of generations

meant to be lost

she tells her daughter

that you have to

accept that it’s

your fault

and smile like

you recognize the

frightened girl who

stares back at you

from the mirror.

About the Author:

Maliha Iqbal is a student and writer from Aligarh, India. Many of her short stories, write-ups, letters, and poems have been published in magazines like Livewire (The Wire), Creativity Webzine, Cerebration, Histolit, Countercurrents, Times of India, Freedom Review, ArmChair Journal, Kitaab, Counterview, Good Morning Kashmir, Writers Cafeteria, Café Dissensus, The New Verse News, Borderless Journal, The Palestine Chronicle, The Cadre Journal, and Indian Periodical.

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