The Vessels

The unsettled vessels in my household
Chose argumentative debate over friendly discussion.
The smoke stained mud pot
Recited an elegy
For her deceased beauty,
Myriads of emotions
Were steamed
Under her nape
In hushed pace.
The tea-filter drained
Stress from my father’s sleeves,
Balancing his small business in a seesaw.
Those steel urns pricked my mother’s craft,
Polluting our dishes in blackened rebukes.

Those casseroles aren’t warm enough
To pamper our frightened heart,
Tea cups no longer solved
Wars,
Salted knifes are always stocked
In trays;
Sniffing in thirst.
We forgot how Eid smelled like;
Mouth
Dried for peaceful Bismillah,
Those spoons in our shelves weren’t
sufficient
To handpick hate from our plate,
And now
Hatred is our new earth and
Smoke became our new sky.
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