Desert in Paradise
Poem by Anamul huq // art by Fernando Amaro

Some-time I really hate myself
in my close confinement expecting help,
for the abject failure to survive, from
the fate that defines the pattern to live.


Other time I almost pity myself
with preserved taste of miserable yelp,
while crying the night empty
shaking the misery out of dignity.


Some-time I feel so rejected
like a decayed statue in a deserted yard,
where lingering pain condemned the years,
when memory is forsaken for death
and past is the only present I get.


Other time I try to encourage myself
escorting determination to the next step,
to be alive and cross the bend beyond the next class
and ceasing to be a blind sketch in a random canvas.

Some-time I am almost happy
when sorrow is the color of tomorrow,
when the shadow blends in light
when happiness is a desert in paradise.