Endless Nights

I want to sing, to turn   
my voice seam-side out
to invoke the shape
of things as they could be,
but the past comes
between us and the 
words lose their way.

Now, I must rediscover lost
languages in your face
when it was a face still, in 
your eyes when they were eyes still,
and not graveyards of unborn stories
never completely suppressed,
never really forgotten

The moon could be with me
like an old lover,
but romance is dead, 
so I must stay awake, 
alone.

No silver threads of radiance turning
this skin to moonstone
no vines of moonflower, caressing 
these limbs, no 
moonlit glances illuminating my shadow’s dances.

The candle to my moth–
my undoing–resurrection-daylight–
towards which I must journey,
across the breadth
of this moonless,
this sleepless,
this endless night.

~ Mariam Tahir Butt