The flowers of insomnia. 

And it was another chilly night

The wild wind was howling outside

It was then,

Insomnia flowered

Its blue flowers,

Bud by bud,

And petal by petal

Deep down, there in my eyes

 

The night bird came

And screeched its message

While sitting on the window sill

The wild wind struck its head

On the window panes

"Minerva is pleased to be

With you

On the new mountain heights"

It showed the valley serene

Covered with red poppies

And grass! That was all green.

 

A muse came therein

And pointed to a stone

A touch of velvet,

Soft and cold

"Take it as a gift of Olympians

To celebrate this night"

 

I returned with it

[When parted company]

To my studio desolate

I put it there in the corner

And looked at it! When,

There was nothing to see

It continued to occupy

The space and attention

Of my vacant eyes

A concentration blank!

At the back of my eyes!

 

And again in my loneliness

When the blue flowers, Rebloomed!

In all their nocturnal hues

At that time I looked at the stone

It smiled back an unearthly smile

Which inspired me to chisel it

To an Aphrodite!

White and soft!

Emerging from

The white surf of the sea

There was marble dust, all around!

On my tired shoulders and face

That colored my beard white

 

There was at last a smile

On the lips, white!

A smile of Venus de Milo

Which ravished my heart

I chiseled it's  Breasts white ,

Soft and round, Cups of wine,

And a navel supple and deep!

 

There was a surprise!

It opened its lips to murmur

Dont carve me! Into a goddess

I am, A bit different stone!

Make me a woman, if you can!

Like was created from your rib

To keep you a company

In your killing solitude

 

Thus blue flowers,

 In my eyes smiled!

And in my frenzy!

 Carved I a few extra things!

To give it a more earthly frame

To fit more closely,

In the scheme of,

 Function and design

 

It smiled an original smile

 I put my robe over its shoulder

As there were no leaves, in my garden

[Of fig or otherwise]

It was a gesture

Not to acknowledge

The eternal guilt

But to save her from the cold bite

And from the further inquisitiveness

Of my own hungry sight

 

It was the first question,

Who are you?

It baffled me a lot!

As I was not prepared

To face it so blatantly

As I had always taken my self as:

 I am what I am

 

I said unsure!

I am my hand and much more!

And showed her. The marble dust,

On the fingers of my hands

No! I am what I am not

Perhaps, I am not what I am,

I can become what I carve,

And can chisel what I am not!

 

The figure smiled a cold smile

And uttered to my surprise

From where are you?

And to whom you belong?

I said my fair lady!

I know not my real abode

But have you been,

On the face of this earth before

I wonder! As I picked you up

A mere a stone!

 

As of myself,

I know not my real abode

But you can say if you must

I come from Bohemia!

The land of the wandering folks

Or you can name it Utopia

A no mans land!

Still, not very inhabited

[And marked on the globe]

Over the shoulders of a titan

The gracious Atlas

To bear this extra load!

 

And who I am?

 I have broken the taboo

To suffer the confusion of direction

I have deviated the path,

That my forerunners ran

 

And rebelled the ways

The crowd enforced

And thus have earned,

The loneliness, in plentitude

And blue flowers in my eyes!

Which shed the sheen and fragrance

Smelled nor seen before

And blossom therein

Every night, bud by bud,

And petal by petal

Deep down in my eyes,

And at the back of my head,

Medulla oblongata!

And the cerebrum!

 

Her lips moved, and signified

I need not repeat, the words

 I mumbled in reply

"No doubt I have a color

But if I bleed,

My blood will match,

The color of every breed!

And if I am hurt, I feel,

The same pain in the flesh,

And my marrow feels,

The same anguish,

If deprived, of the needs,

And, nourishing sap of life.

 

She inquired in haste!

"If you are a man, are you married?"

And I uttered in dismay

"My fairest lady

I am identified as a male

But in gender a female do I imbibe!

Yes, not in my genitalia

But in feminine style

I do create and procreate"

 

"But I wanted to be a queen"

For that I will need a crown

My fair lady, I am pauper

And cant offer you

That unnecessarily expensive

Historical headgear

But I can suggest you

An alternative to become,

A queen of the hearts

It will need a bit more effort,

But will make you more charming,

And happy than a fearful,

Cohort of a superfluous king,

Who has been long beheaded!

And guillotined

To your compelling surprise!

 

She smiled a sardonic smile

Are you a married man?

My nymph! From where have learned,

This legitimization of sexuality

I can love you my creature ethereal!

And restore you as my lost rib

At my left side

 

How can you love me?

With out a marriage!

Have I resurrected you?

From some grave

Of Victorian morality

To ask questions so circumscribed

All love is and has been,

Extramarital, my fair lady!

And I can love many

With all my heart

In a single moment in time.

 

"I dont agree to your

Polygamous extravaganza

Who loves all loves none

But have you not been,

 Given to a woman"

 

"Yes! Once upon a time

When you were not on the scene

And be a witness.

Before I carved,

And finalized this night

From the body of that stone

Now lying in dust, all scattered

How I could celibate for centuries!

Waiting for you to arrive

I assure you, I am immaculate

And not deeply involved in spirit

 

I was in need of you

In my very human hunger

A need, hard to define

Which in you body I have carved

Following my own imagination

And given a shape to the unseen

 

Be a woman and not a queen

In the wedlock of some Henry

Step not in the shoes

Of master and a slave

What every one needs

Is self-determination?

And not to follow a path

Of some holy family

 

 

Now! will you allow me?

To demolish and increate

My marble creation

As creation can only

Be adored and worshiped

Or put on a pedestal

To be kept in a museum

And is not a fit object of love

 

My fair lady you know the reason

Why I wanted to create a muse

And not a woman

Because you can not,

Create a woman

She has to be formed

In the crucible of history

Against the stubborn

Will of the patriarch

Still a mission impossible

 

Now I have to run again

After the shadow

Of a muse, who is woman?

Or a woman, who is a muse

Or wait here

Till she herself arrives

On the wings of the wind"

Rashid Zaman