The title, though archaic, should hint at some of the meanings within the sher of this ghazal. Crops cannot be planted in untilled soil, for instance. This word has also been used in the past to denote the fruits of a cultured mind or spirit. Because there is no need for the sher of a ghazal to have continuity, a lot can be done to reflect back to a title such as this.
Tillage
Your words—They drift like drizzle down to bead me;
I stumble through the vacant ways you lead me.
Each night, beneath the shifting gaze of your eye,
I listen for the silent words you feed me.
How can my clay begin to learn its aspect
If your caress will never cease to knead me?
I am for you to harrow or abandon;
Just know my heart longs for your grace to weed me.
I never learned to fence with words like foils,
And so I feared that their misuse would bleed me.
A lone rose sways on arid desert breezes;
Each day it asks the sky, “why did you seed me?”
“Why torment me,” one day I asked, “with your song?”
“Zahhar”, I heard, “deep in your heart you heed me.”
This is my 78th ghazal.
Publication History:
Muse Apprentice Guild (web-based) — Fall 2003
