Written by Zainab Batool
Art by Laiba Shafeeq (Dumbo)


Summer takes up the guise of nostalgia
And shows up at the terrace again,
My fingers are still sticky
With a thick sweet memory
From last year
That I can not wash away

The joy turns into melancholy
When I recall it
The joy turns into melancholy
On a usual afternoon,
When few specks of dust grab my nerve
For a solid seven seconds

They make me forget the world I’m living in
As if they’re flying
Taking all the hurt that has been freezing up inside me,
As if they’re the dead skin of the old season
Peeling off and away,
As if they’re the magic powder
From the wands of those who let grief go easily

The joy turns into melancholy
When my mini trance of peace breaks
And in the place of my physics test I write,

“Snowflakes in summer -a poem about dust”

While the magic summer dust continues to filter through
The blinding white light,
I take off my cloak of winter
And it slides down the length of my pale, gray body
Like a puddle of cold water

I let the humidity hug me soft
And I let my bare skin bathe in the light
That is filled with the dreams of all those
who are painted in the color
Of peaches and apricots today

For a moment, I try thinking again
If I can let you -the ache- go
Darl, I know
I can let you go
I can let you go like ash, smoke or sand
So I can greet joy now
And shake my hand

And when the sun crawls in bed
With another tired evening,
I let you and melancholy find another home.

I look at those tiny specks of dust in the air
That are flying with a soft hum,
My pretty brown eyes going gold,
I smile at how strong I’ve become