In Search for a Master
What did he give to the writers who wrote of the patience
of Majnoon and the arrows of Mirza? What did he take? I
am filth on filth on filth, not nearly as pure as those who
wrote Laila and Sahiba to life, so what must I forsake for a
tongue that sings praises of the beloved as he lies resting in
his boat, and I, on my knees beside the lake? Ask him, the
maker of hands, then, grant me new ones. The pair that I
was born with is faulty. He says I don’t make hands
that hold separation like a sacrament anymore. I say forget
the hands, give me a fresh pair of eyes that lie awake at
night, waiting. He says I don’t make eyes so patient anymore
but I can give you heartache. I accept for I once heard
someone say that if you don’t know how to please God, and
if you don’t pray, expecting miracles is a mistake. Another
time, I heard that the order of love is the order of God, but
whose orders do you take when no master speaks to you?
Aditi Kashyap is a writer and artist from Punjab, India. She believes that no two things are the same, no matter how similar they may seem. She also loves contradictions. Her work has previously appeared in Nowhere Girl Collective and Daughter Zine. You can find her on Instagram @/yvslne.