Shah Jahan built the Taj Mahal as a tomb for his favourite wife, Mumtaz. He longed to preserve the love that he had for her. With its creation, love, magnificence and memory has been preserved. I had the privilege of falling on the stairs inside that lead to the tombs proper on a visit – a treat from my dad while we were visiting family in India. I was not allowed to continue due to the risks – enabled by the shoe protectors that tourists have to wear. So I mooched outside taking photographs…these are not those, however.
Shah Jahan
She wilted and he slept for one year,
fading like the blush of twilight –
riches do not protect the human flesh
or soul –
death permeates even our innermost
love.
In dark dreams, grief struck aching bones
and tortured sinews,
surrounds of a heart heavy from drought,
until he was woken with a vision to transform
her death into beauty – as she was in life
so she shall be in slumber.
‘No more tear drops on cheeks
that pain compared to her touch,
but across the naked sky,
to prolong this innermost sorrow,
just the last one –
a gesture to sear my longing
in this lonely, mournful place –
the last cry will be affixed
vapour
laden with jewels and precious
splendour
to pierce the clouds
saddened and heaving constantly
as sorrow.
On the south bank, ribbons
of the Yamuna river will stare
at a true reflection of beauty
created from your passing –
it will remain a last kiss on the cheek
from my final tear as it rolls
through Agra.
Your splendour will ignite
a restful place, and make magical
this white opal – as opaque,
as my grief
and as magnificent
as you my love, Mumtaz –
soon we will sleep until we can
no longer, and we leave together
through the ghosted marble
of the Iwan.’
It is sad how much he missed her when she was gone.
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Grief is a terrble thing, but yes this amplifies his, I think. Thank you for reading, Lisa.
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Thank you for sharing. I am sorry you fell randomised out on the rest of it.
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Thank you. It was ok, I saw quite a lot and outside, the back was la sight to behold and lovely on my own to think.
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Oh so lovely poem.
I went to India in May and fell in love with it….
While there is much poverty and sadness…there is so much beauty to be discovered…and the people…words can’t
describe what lovely people I met.
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it does conflict us the topsy tuvey mirrors but yes, the warmth and it is those people often that would give us the clothes off their back, when that is very little. Thank you for the interest in my work.
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Wonderful, moving lines here –
“Your splendour will ignite
a restful place, and make magical
this white opal – as opaque,
as my grief
and as magnificent
as you my love, Mumtaz “
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Thank you, Tammy. I have ben anting to do a write but never have about this.
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Ok I know that feeling lol. Good to see the finale on this a splendid write.
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Thank you!
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Truly another Masterpiece that are your, Anita..
Tremendously superb!
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Too kind, thank you.
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You penned down all the emotions so sensitively and with grace.There is an aching tenderness in depiction of love and grief.Its rawness appeals.A beautiful tribute to immortal love.
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Reblogged this on As it Comes and commented:
Still out and about…
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