Poetry by Mustafa Khan Abdurahman
We are the petals of a dying flower
In the process where we disunite
And the winds scatter our remains asunder.
We fall apart slightly and more, slightly and more
Until we get swallowed into oblivion
Same way death has forgotten to notify before it calls
And that’s the place
Where we drop who we were before all the confusion.
_____ Mustafa Khan Abdurahman.
Flowers when I’m dead
Like most
Never saw then fit before I left.
While my heart still beats
Most love is off today.
Now my smile still speaks,
When I’m gone
Most of it they’ll miss in regret.
Flowers for the dead
Like the florist
cultivated them
For them alone.
While their hearts still beat,
Love was a waste of time for most.
Now their smiles no longer breathe,
They’re gone
And most miss them in regret.
©Mustafa Khan A.
Love is a historical creature
That lives present and in the future;
Love is
Little and grown, little and grown
As though it were put on a loop_
That it is retold through time:
From those to whose life we mourn,
To the novices
Whose hearts are just learning to roar.
_____ Mustafa Khan Abdurahman.
2000 Little Words