Breadcrumb #562
KASHAF GHUMMAN
I keep Jasmine-scented candles at my side table
The smell takes me back to you in a dim lit room
To evenings spent playing the "who will reach nano first" game
I always won
Maybe because I made the game, but I wanted to make you laugh
When your face stitched itself close from your aching loss
Every day you would wake dawn up with your gentle reminder of a due good bye
And fill a silver bowl with tiny Jasmine flowers
When you were happy you would place them in your ears
The elongated loops through which I could see
Beyond your gray, black, henna-tinged hair
You smelled of jasmines, your ears, your hair, your palms and your golden bangles
Your room smelled of jasmines, your comb, your woolen socks, your handmade quilts and your rusted henna bowls
Your jasmines were always soft and wet
Succulent from the tears you hid among them
By the end of the day they would turn brown and shriveled in elegiac discontent
And you would retreat further away from us
Feeble in your restraint but obstinate in your sorrow
And that's when we knew it was time to leave