The oak wood burning I smelt last night <br />In total darkness when only a few things <br />Had happened in our lives <br />From the distant past <br />And into the morose evenings <br />When your fingers would bring <br />And break into pieces <br />Oak wood for the fireplace with light of lantern <br /> <br />Life went by when the yellow winter <br />Would set in the night’s deep pleasure <br />When life was no glory but for a while <br />It had stopped for us <br />To feel what it all was about <br />In heavy rains when the mud <br />Of that enchanted land <br />Would turn into slippery ground <br />With water falling from the roof <br />When many events in our life had yet to come <br /> <br />When like cocoon we would wrap ourselves in silk <br />Magic realism was the food for thought <br />The books thrown on the hand made rug <br />The beautiful bed made of straps half a century ago <br />When my parents had seen and woven many dreams <br />The dreams which came into reality in me <br /> <br />And like the wood piece <br />That we used to burn to see in the dark <br />Oily wood which that great old lady in the village <br />Told us was good for the evil eye <br />The magic in me and the delights of the day <br /> <br />I remember for want of doing anything <br />I picked guns from our family arsenal <br />To clean and oil and one gun it was said <br />Was used to kill elephants <br />But no elephants were in our village <br /> <br />The high peaks and when once <br />I drank the water from a stream <br />Rain water with salt of the land in it <br />And when my veins <br />And arteries grew in rebellion <br />By the salts in those waters <br /> <br />Last night <br />I rubbed my chest many times <br />For that smell of the burning oak wood <br />Was not leaving me <br />It was not leaving me and I felt <br />That it was burning me into smoke<br /><br />Sadiqullah Khan<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/burning-oak-wood/
