The soul of mine, mere speck of dust, drifted and fragment,
devoid of shine, with his glimpse, is now transformed into gold.
My deep stains and impurities, like a floating weed
on flowing stream are washed.
I smell roses and jasmines and tulips
that the foul smell of my soul is gone.
Now you would certainly think that I am bragging.
I have been to Darbar and I am blessed with Deedar.
Do you still think that I am bragging?
I saw him walking, drenched in noor
like the brightest orb in the sky, carrying Hawz-E- Kausar in his eyes.
You can deny everything that I write
but I have witnessed with my blessed eyes
I saw mountains bowing
land silencing itself,
birds ecstatic, crying and chanting.
I saw bone-cracking-cold losing,
the strength it has got and melting.
I witnessed my pen raising, telling me to start spilling
the ink and fill pages.
I heard it saying, start with the name of Ali
end it with the name of Hazir Imam but do not end it.
What kind of metaphor is it playing?
Now critiques will criticize me,
scholars will scold me,
but I am not hushing and shushing
and here I am, claiming
My heart dances ALI.
My tongue curls and recites Ali.
And the empty self of mine is filled with Ali.
— Seemi Asad.
Seemi Asad is from Gilgit-Baltistant. She studied pre-med from Aga Khan Higher Secondary School Hunza and graduated in 2014. She is now studying Audiology and Vestibular sciences from ISRA University, Pakistan. Seemi likes to continuously write with passion.