Fairy Tales

"and mother... Why tell me the story of a tiger,

the one black on golden stripe,

that chewed its own arms and legs

in silent rage at night?

Also, what about the dragon,

who ate apples and fire,

lived inside impractical caves

tucking in wings of lost desire?

waiting, day after day,

breath held back for fear unseen.

Will the knight meant to free his soul

be fearless and keen?

The spear flung and true,

caught its jaded breast;

in the end my dragon was a

forgotten winter mist...

So I ask oh mother,

why sing such a song?

The tiger of those years

lives undefeated, strong.

Why fear the dragon too? 

They both are

poised

ready

I hide my eyes

struggle on my knees bare

needy

bathed in lies, neck exposed

veins pulsing heat,

I know my tiger

waits in hunger,

that dragon

gnashing emerald teeth

...you shrink away in pain,

mother so have I too, and in vain.

Me, myself and I, were not to be

a tale with happy end.."

Fallen

In a winter morning's tranquil despair,

the last shiuli hung on a branch gone bare.

The bough heavy and burdened

sunk towards the ground, a single petal

poised on its neck, forced it to the earth.

Pulled the planet's core, a promise of rebirth.

It was the last dew from a dawn withdrawn,

that sat at the tip, swollen to the brim -

the crystal womb, a forgotten hope.

Did it witness a wish slip off the edge?

Did the arm reach out, at the slightest sign?

Did it hold on to the fragile light of life,

tasting eternity in an atom of air?

Did it travel to the end of hell and back,

in that fractured tilt of uncertainty?

Yet, poised at the brink of the truth

that kind of gravity will win eventually.

The last dew of that morning held inside,

all of the earth and all of the sky.

Sabrina Binte Masud writes creatively in a number of genres and has won international awards for her plays.