POETRY BY KA

  “Ready to Shine” I walked on eggshells, Stayed quiet in every fight— Just to keep us whole, Just to make it right. I told no one my truth, Silenced my pain with grace. Hid the storms behind my smile, For love, I held my place. Every step, every tear, Was just to stay by your side. But loyalty was met with lies, And now, the love has died. You betrayed the bond we built, Shattered dreams with no sign. But I rise from what's behind— No more regrets. I'm ready to shine.                                    Kulsoom Afzal

  I Loved You Still I loved you still, when silence grew, When pain knocked loud, and it wasn't you. When life within me quietly died, And you chose joy, while I just cried. I held my heart in trembling hands, While you walked free on golden sands. My tears — they fell, you didn’t see, The weight of loss was just on me. I whispered dreams into the dark, And lit my grief like a dying spark. You lived your life without a pause, While I made peace with what was lost. But love — oh love — it’s not a light, That fades with wrong, or dies with night. It lingers still in shattered parts, It aches inside forgiving hearts. I don’t regret the love I gave, It wasn’t weak — it made me brave. But now, I choose to love me more, And leave your shadow at the door. For I am fire, I am rain, A woman risen from her pain. You may not weep for what we lost — But I have paid the truest cost. Still, I stand — scarred, but whole, With tenderness stitched in my soul. I loved you once, I...

  The moment I had dreamed of was supposed to be filled with joy. I was carrying life inside me, a little soul that I had already loved with all my heart. I couldn’t wait to share the news with my in-laws, to celebrate the beginning of something beautiful. I thought it would be a moment of happiness, a moment of connection. With trembling hands, I told them, “I’m pregnant. You’re going to be grandparents.” My heart raced with excitement, my eyes sparkling with the hope of a new beginning. But instead of smiles, I was met with an oppressive silence. The room felt colder with every passing second, the air thick with unspoken words. My mother-in-law and elder sister-in-law’s faces twisted into something I can’t even describe — a darkness that chilled me to the bone. They couldn’t even manage to speak. Their silence was more cutting than any words could have been. The younger sister-in-law gave a faint, hollow congratulations, but it barely reached me through the suffocating atmosphere...

  خاموش لفظوں کا شور جو دل میں تھا، کبھی زباں پہ نہ آیا، جو لفظ لکھے، کسی کو دکھایا نہ۔ ہر بات کو دل کے گوشے میں رکھا، ہر جذبے کو خامشی کی چادر میں چھپا رکھا۔ ڈرتی رہی کہ کوئی پڑھ نہ لے، کوئی سن نہ لے، کوئی سمجھ نہ لے، کہیں غلط نہ سمجھے، برا نہ کہے، اسی خوف میں ہر سچ دل میں دبا رکھا۔ اے بے وفا! تیرا شکریہ، تیری بے وفائی کا، تیری چالاکی کا شکریہ۔ تو نے جو زخم دیے، وہی مرہم بن گئے، تو نے جو توڑا، وہی خواب نئے بن گئے۔ اب جو دل میں ہے، لبوں پہ سجا لیتی ہوں، جو لفظ کبھی چھپائے تھے، دنیا کو سنا دیتی ہوں۔ اب نہ ڈر ہے، نہ کوئی وسوسہ، اب میں خود کو بے خوف جِیا کرتی ہوں۔ اب ہر لمحہ خود کو لکھتی ہوں، اب ہر درد کو روشنی میں رکھتی ہوں۔ خاموش لفظ اب شور مچاتے ہیں، میرے خواب اب ستاروں کو چھو آتے ہیں۔                                                    KULSOOM AFZAL

Stolen Light The day I woke up beside him felt like a dream, Wrapped in the warmth of a love unseen. But shadows crept where light once lay, And love turned colder, day by day. I searched for kindness, for something bright, But only a beast stood in the light. Bound by the whispers of his mother’s tongue, Every joy undone, every song unsung. The gift of life, a heartbeat new, Should have been cherished, a love so true. Yet in her eyes, it was a curse, Turning our blessing into a verse of hurt. She wove her poison, soft and slow, Until my womb was forced to let go. A life so pure, never to see, Stolen away by cruelty. No grave to mourn, no lullaby, Just echoes of a mother’s cry. The hands that should have held with grace, Became the ones to erase a face.                                    KULSOOM AFZAL

 Red. The color of love, power, and defiance. As a little girl, I always dreamed of the day I’d wear it—bold and beautiful—on my baraat. A Pakistani bride, draped in crimson, with lips painted to match the moment. It was supposed to be a day of joy, a day where I felt like the most beautiful version of myself. But my red lipstick was a crime. I still remember the sharp voice of my mother-in-law cutting through the celebration. “Wipe it off,” she commanded, her eyes burning with disapproval. My heart sank. This was my dream, my day. But in her world, my choices didn’t matter. I was expected to obey. To shrink. To dull myself down into a shade she approved of. That day, I wiped away my red lips. But a part of me—the part that loved, that dreamed, that dared—never forgot. The Color of Control After marriage, I learned that my lipstick was only the beginning. My mother-in-law despised red, or maybe she despised what it represented—confidence, power, individuality. Every time I reached ...

The morning after her wedding, April 27, 2024 , she woke up with a pounding headache. The world around her felt different—not the warmth of her mother’s home, but a cold, suffocating space that was now called "hers." All she wanted was a hot cup of tea , a sip of comfort, a familiar taste to ease the storm inside her. She had grown up with tea as a ritual, a gentle embrace in a cup. But here, she was met with a stare sharp enough to cut through her soul. “Do it yourself. We are not here to serve you.” The words stung. She wasn’t asking for luxury, just warmth—something to hold, something to soothe. She turned to her husband, hoping for kindness. “I always have tea at my mother’s house,” she murmured, but he remained silent. The message was clear: she was alone in this. That night, after their Valima , they finally handed her half a cup of tea —not a sip more. The steam rose, delicate and mocking. Even this, even tea, would be rationed. The next morning, hunger gnawed at her,...