The Sands

The grains, they pile
One upon the other
Never to be returned
To the other side

No second chances
Repeated seconds
A pipe dream
Like so many others

Unfulfilled?

The days, they pass
Unnoticed, not counted
Each day closer
To a pre set end

The days, they’re swift
Their hours short
Yet, so many grains
Pass through the glass

Countless?

The months, they flow
Each into the next
Names and numbers
On calendars, crossed

The dates commemorate
Deaths and births
Wars and treaties
Beginnings and ends

Eternally?

The years grow short
As time goes by
Days like minutes
Weeks like days
Months like weeks
Years like months
So many months
Bringing wrinkles

Illness?

The sands, so small
They make the minutes
Hours, days,
Weeks, months
And years

Those sands – unnoticed
That Death -
Impossible not to

Notice?

Saaleha Bhamjee is a mother of four and a writer based in South Africa. She is a regular columnist for The Muslim Woman, a magazine in South Africa. She is amember of the Islamic Writers Alliance and can be contacted at imraan.bhamjee@fnbisp.co.za.