Monday, June 5, 2017


Last night
You wrote your sonnets
in Braille:
the commas, parenthesis, 
engraved perfectly
on my skin-
and I 
woke up to find, 
my windows

© Nazia Mallick

Sunday, May 8, 2016

Blue Dawn

dawn brings
in its grubby palms
a handful of dreams
soggy and torn-
a crumpled ball of tissues in my hurting fist.

 © Nazia Mallick

Wednesday, December 2, 2015


if I hold my breath,
if I become very, very still:
if I stop breathing;
if I just stop breathing...
will I  hear you calling me,
from your distant skies?

© Nazia Mallick  

Photo: Nazia

Tuesday, April 21, 2015


I need to dream a lot. And heavy doses of silences. Too much talking tires me. Being around too many people suffocates me and I always try to find ways to escape. 
To slip away. Drift on my own. Be silent.

This need to be left alone most of the times is considered a pathological deficiency by my dear family. For others it appears as conceit, perhaps.
Later, much later I realized that I am marked for life. I have to live either with me all my life or change my options, drastically. That I chose the latter was due to the authentic need to be true to my own self, a voluntary choice. This was understood by few and accepted by none.

‘No regrets’ sounds harsh. Almost condescending, but I think I prefer the way things are with me because I know that it is very difficult for another person to live with me, as sometimes it is extremely difficult for me to live with another person. And when such phases happen, I allow some company, some presence, to safely choose to enrich few moments by making connection with another, or maybe just to see how far I can be tolerated by another’s presence. 
I return soon. Back to me. It feels safe.

Thursday, December 18, 2014

Some Sadness is Necessary

Getting up with that familiar feeling. The unnamed, meaningless sadness. Like snowflakes falling inside. And huddled under a thick jacket  I walk on the wet grass, wishing the "purposeful morning walk" would clear the sludge within.
The dry leaves roll at my feet. The chilly breeze sting my face. The few joggers pass by rubbing their hands and blowing upon them, their enthusiasm cutting through the icy cold.

Just then, as I take the curvy pathway to the exit, to go back and crawl into the borrowed warmth of my bed, I see the sun. It is smiling behind the cluster of Laburnum trees. Glowing warmly.
Just for me.

Monday, June 23, 2014

Breathing Spell

The brain feels like an over-soaked tea bag. Heavy. All the flavour seeped out. I step outside, on the terrace. The scent of  wet mud is heavy in the breeze. The lingering fragrance of last night's rain. I inhale the night air, try to feel it on my palm. It slips through my fingers like a skein of silk.
The feeling of expectancy is around. Vague. Nebulous.Teasing. Asking to be grasped again.
Up above, on the sky, a pale, moon is shivering beneath the fluffy wrap of clouds.
Night is calm. Its stillness soporific. The suspended stars take my breath away.
But in few hours it will be dawn. The day will just burst open.
And the spell will be broken.

© Nazia Mallick  

Monday, November 11, 2013

Like Snow

the waxen face of moon
in the pool of tears
like snow
in my palms

© Nazia Mallick  

Tuesday, September 17, 2013


      Don’t look for Love, look for the one looking for  Love.


Wednesday, August 14, 2013


Look what happens with
a love like that-
it lights up the whole sky.



Tuesday, August 6, 2013


Dear heart-
in the winter of love,
when these glass panes begin to quake,
I rush to close my aching windows.

© Nazia Mallick

Saturday, August 3, 2013


                                just tears-
                                brimming with that vague fulfillment
                                to untie the knots;
                                and let the heart breathe.

© Nazia Mallick  


Friday, July 26, 2013


"Who is not afraid of pure space...that breathing , empty space of an open door?" -Anne Morrow.

Picture: Rumi

Wednesday, July 24, 2013

Café Love

That’s all. 
Some moments slipped by,
But in those eyes, 
In one irradiant moment
My life stood still.

© Nazia Mallick  

Picture: Justin Rabindra