Afra Adil Ahmad
Afra Adil Ahmad is a writer, poet, artist and calligrapher. Based in Taiwan, she holds a bachelor's degree in English Literature. She writes about everything under the sun: from dark issues of the society to problems faced by teenagers to imparting chunks of wisdom through her poems, stories and write-ups. Her works have appeared in various magazines including Iman Collective, MYM, Rather Quiet, Euonia Review, Olney Magazine, The Malu Zine, The Sophon Lit, Blue Minaret, Melbourne Culture Corner, Her Hearth Magazine, The Hot Pot Magazine, and Broken Spine Collective.
Only you carried that power
Grass-green coat with its fur warming your self-reliant soul,
reminding me of the tint of unripe mangoes swelling on the trees in grandfather's backyard,
and my palm holding the soft fabric instead of your hand
to save my heart from getting lost in this complex park;
your ravishing hands complementing the dahlias they clutched every time we reached here: textured and layered,
and I, screaming and begging you: don't pluck these flowers, you're wounding them,
your nonchalant reply: they're not humans;
the stubborn strand of hair that always succeeded in wriggling out of the perfectly tied wet hair,
spiralling as the breeze would caress you lightly,
and you flipping through stale yellow pages of 'our' favourite novel
remarking incomputable times
'I wish I were a character in this book',
followed by my eye-roll.
it has been awfully long
since we both welcomed the sun together.
my heart is tired of yearning for your euphonious voice,
my heart is tired of wanting to cry but not finding your shoulder by my side,
my heart is tired of longing for your prankish grin that would manage to embellish this messed up world.
only you carried that power.
this park has everything but you.
today it's not me who notices the dearth of your crazy laughter,
today it's the sun.
what must I tell him?
when are you going to come?
are you coming back at all?