Angel of Death

KHATIDJA HUSSEIN JIWANI

Three, two, one…
 It takes less than that to turn the curve on our faces upside down,
The paleness to surface on our appearance, in that sadness to drown,
No, you don't even need a conversation; a simple one-minute phone call is enough,
To realise that what we had till yesterday is buried under death, so rough.
Yes they were supposed to meet after 16 years, the excitement around them roared,
But, all that came back from the happiness was a phone call that made our hearts sore,
Just a matter of three to four days and the day would come when they met and rejoiced,
Talked about the olden days, chatted night and day with their happy voices.
But see, that it's restlessness, it's impatience to snatch away,
The souls of our loved ones, without whom life is an incomplete maze,
It shows up unpredictably, unexpectedly, carries contagious bad news,
Spreading diseases of sadness, loneliness and bursting happiness's fuse.
Yes that's exactly who I am referring to, the angel of death,
Who performs its jobs, so harsh that our lives are wrecked?

Khatidja Hussein Jiwani,15, is a Class 9 student at Sunbeams School, Dhaka.

***

Nocturnality

PO

On moonlit nights, you appeased yourself
Draining and starving; her white gown fell
You claimed your throne among the waves oscillating in her hair
Passion in her breath, blood flowing beneath wrists so fair.

The winds howled with a vacant cry
Clouds veiled, as the moon was shy
Witnesses, they, seemed to hide
From all the gore destined tonight.

You shook; salivated with lust
Smelled her thorough, but never enough
A grip too strong, a bite too sharp,
You're killing her, with all your love.