I Am the Daughter of a Murderer. {poetry}
{source}
The jubilant ashen face shone
against the dumb shrieks
of the placid night,
as she sang the jovial dirge
of her wedding day,
beating and laughing.
Swirling and crying,
“I am a murderer’s daughter!”
“I am a murderer’s daughter!”
A twinkling delight
clinking in her bright eyes.
Blood dripping from her ghostly lips.
She rolled in the blood cleansing herself.
She twirled and twirled glorifying
in her bridal dress of blood.
Coming to a stop
the faceless figures
stared at her with empty eyes.
“Oh, don’t you think I look pretty, my dearest?
Look at my dress, isn’t it something?
My husband bestowed upon me such a present
that it put me in much contention.
What can I give him
worthy of his benevolence?
So I held him close in all tenderness,
that here he lies now in cold shock.
Never had he thought
of receiving a bride of such a stock.
I have done what you asked me
What more do you want
Give me the key and leave me alone.
Why should you gaze on me such?
I did what you raised me to do!
I am a murderer’s daughter!
I am a murderer’s daughter!”
The mute figures stood before her.
She scooped the blood
and drank it with a relish,
“Ahh…”
Wiping her lips she chimed on.
“See how sweet it tastes,
fragrant and intoxicating,
as the sweet ripeness
of summer delights.”
The faceless tall figures bowed out,
each imprinting a scorching kiss
on her thick brow.
A piercing whisper erupted from her lips,
“I am free from the pimps that ruled my life.
Flutter away the demons of my heart
lest you are caged
once more in my rotten visage.
This blood is my opiate,
this blood is my lure,
I will drink it all and gather some more.
I am not a monster
I am just a murderer’s daughter.
It is not my fault,
I am just a murderer’s daughter.”
She put on her veil,
covering her berserk celestial face,
gliding through the streets of ruin
with no resting place of happiness or joy.
A sepulchral figure
followed her from every street,
clad in the reverberant tones as she,
their faces too veiled
like her yet shining peerlessly bright.
She sallied forth
to the measureless sea,
set on fire by the setting sun,
followed by the angelic horde of banshees
wailing their whispers,
“I am a murderer’s daughter!”
“I am a murderer’s daughter!”
Wading the resisting mob of sea
they marched on,
their bridal dress of blood
floating over the sea.
wailing and whispering,
crying and rejoicing,
“I am a murderer’s daughter!”
“I am a murderer…”
“I am…”
“I…”
The sea went dark with the blood.
The sun sunk down with a lull,
and in the bustle of the placid night,
the dumb shrieking dirge was heard
no more.
*****
Hina Habib is a reserved little creature who is a lover of literature. She loves to read and write and wants to inculcate the sense of importance of reading in her students. She loves solitude and all she wants is a wonderful library and a beautiful garden outside its window. She lives in Peshawar, Pakistan, and currently teaches literature at National University of Modern Languages.
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