THE LIGHT OF A BLIND SHADOW
By Ibrar Sami
When evening falls here,
silence descends.
A blind shadow walks
on one leg.
On the clear windowpane,
its reflection
runs with time.
As the sunlight fades,
the shadow lengthens.
On the rusty aluminum sheet,
the shadow of water stirs.
Beyond the window, darkness,
yet inside the room,
the sunlight smiles softly.
The green grass in the backyard
died long ago.
Yet the dream lies sleeping—
one day,
through the dead earth,
the voice of green will rise.
There is no pulse of life;
yet on the dead grass
an unseen light
lies hidden.
Beside the door,
a watchful eye
keeps vigil—
the garden flowers
fall, one by one.
Far away, a dry leaf
rolls slowly away.
The wind comes,
the storm comes,
the rain falls.
At last, the sunlight comes
to rest on the window sill.
On the clear glass,
the blind shadow
still walks
on one leg.
