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A Week After Zia Died
I knelt beside an empty bedside A week after Zia died It was not his death that I mourned I wept for ours.
It was here That I intoned secrets To tape-recorded blaring of Begum Akhtar’s sighs, to beat the prying ears Of Zia’s spies.
It was here That we first saw snowdrops in May, And you murmured your suppressed wonder that we had at last arrived But then we left facing east A week after Zia died.
"Neckless" as Benazir said, So he could not face West, When we left A week after Zia died.
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