Ink

Flowing inside me is ink, blue
My bones and flesh, a walking Qalam
Each step I take and word I speak causes the ink to flow and write my Kitab
Flowing effortlessly, my ink is running out

Once exposed to the breath of life it turns red from corruption
The slithering tongue
The envious eyes
The wayward feet
The sticky fingers
Hearts not content
From this ink we are all formed, it was used to create but we destroy
Who knows how much we have left

My life is one huge Kitab to be read aloud one day
I only serve as it’s Qalam
Deeds I have done corrupted the blood I write with
I wonder if I can clean it up in time.

Ah, we all know we have only so much to write with
To seal the last pages and turn in for publishing
Let’s read what we contain in our souls and learn
The ink is little.

Iqra.

Ink

MZahra

Columbus, United States

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