A Poet.

10th century, Afghanistan.

My name is Rabia Balkhi
My father was a Royal.
His son was Hāres..but.. they say,…
Deep in my father’s Persian heart
He loved me best of all.

I fell in love with Baktash…
My brother’s Turkic slave.
We kept our love a secret
to be safe.

Hāres discovered our romance.
He tried to murder Baktash
But he escaped…
But I had nowhere I could go…
That was my Fate.

They slit my wrists to murder me.
I lie upon a slab,
And write my final poem in blood.
I scrawl it on the wall.

“ I was caught in the net of love,
trying to escape is not possible
Love is an ocean without boundaries
a wise person would not want to swim in it

If you want love until the end
you must accept what is not accepted,
welcome hardship with joy
eat poison but call it honey. “

My name is Rabia Balkhi,
I wrote poetry.

Kristine Byrne Dec.20th 2020

Rabia Balkhi. c. 914 - 943