By Ibrar Sami
At midnight
the two of us
came to a halt
upon the same line.
Inside the darkness,
a cockroach
moved through the dark—
carrying its tiny world along.
You suddenly screamed,
“Cockroach!”—
the word itself
seemed to deliver a verdict.
Under the pressure of a foot,
language shattered.
In a silent explosion,
there appeared upon the floor
an inverted sky—
where walls begin to walk,
and windows
stare like eyes.
Thinking the fire had died,
I threw away the cigarette;
far into the dark,
it still glows faintly.
Outside, the wind is cold—
yet within the body
an invisible heat
slowly gathers.
The night paused
in a mute utterance—
behind an unfamiliar door
the cockroach
lost its shadow.
Ibrar Sami is the pen name of an internationally published author whose work explores memory, time, and human resilience through symbolic and philosophical imagery. A cancer survivor, his writing reflects personal suffering and recovery. His poems have appeared in international journals and platforms.
