Unhinged

• Ifreet Mahmood
• Poetry
• 2009

You’ve lost it all, father dear
You’ve lost everything that you’ve ever known
There is nothing lying here
But the ashen remnants of crumbling bone

Such is the pain you’ve inflicted upon us
Such is the horror we’ve been forced to endure
Mother’s convinced you never meant to harm us
It’s simply love that you try to procure

Yet the ravens are settling on Death’s front door
As you watch the procession with your keen eye
Are you picturing grandmother lying on the floor?
Was her love for her granddaughter reason to die?

The time is nearing, but time always is
It is so inconsistent yet it governs all
However, time has no control over this
It is your hand, father, that splattered blood on the wall

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder
You seem to take pleasure in seeing us cringe
Does all this aggression make you feel bolder?
No matter, for soon you will come unhinged

The dark is approaching with frightening velocity
Sneering at you and all that you’ve done
Soon you will be punished for every atrocity
Dealt, relentlessly, from the day you begun

The life of a child is no cruel intention
Yet, father dear, it has come to my attention
That you’ve been using each breath I take
As a reason, the reason, for every mistake
Father, do you not fear pain?
Do you not relinquish when blood begins to rain?
Especially that which is blood of a kin
Do you not consider death as a sin?

The time is now and your lips curve to a smile
The glint of your knife, the power on which you binge
The breath which you blame will be halted in a while
No matter, for soon you will come unhinged