In the rain 

The torrential rain continues to make the sea rise,
My body lying on the beach stirs up the winter,
The wounds are left open;
A cold breeze envelops my inert body,
Despite the rain and the cold, my heart is in flames.

Illustration/photography/Anita Bacha 



O mystic traveler!

As a warm gentle waft,

You’re in thro’ the secret doors of my alcove;

Snuggled under the red satin quilt,

In gentle strokes you caressed

My thirsty body;

Whispering musical words,

In the naked voice of silence,

You stole my soul,

Left behind a sorrowful corpse.

Anita Bacha

Fistful of Sand IMG_7643

Cross Over 

I loved you,my beloved,More than my heart could hold,

You promised to love me forever,

To hold my hand,

To walk with me till the end of time,

But your love proved weak,

You left me half-way to paradise.

Anita Bacha


Sometimes leaves fall,
Sometimes leaves are dropped,
The leaves do not grow back,
The tree stands stripped,
But, if its roots and stem are strong,
New leaves will bud and blossom;
Sometimes loved ones sever the bond,
Sometimes people make them go,
The loved ones wane in oblivion,
We stay alive, bare;
But, if our heart and our urge are selfless,
New relations will emerge and bloom.


On the quay of farewell,

In a covetous embrace

You gave me your heart;

On the quay of farewell,

You wiped my tears with your lips,

You offered me your eyes;

On the quay of farewell,

You spoke to me about your suffering,

You wanted my mouth to feel your fading breath;

On the quay of farewell,

You wanted me to remember your desires,

Your thirst and your hunger in-satiate;

On the quay of farewell,

You fumbled for the tenderness and sweetness that are in me,

That you will never find in another;

On the quay of farewell,

You hugged me tight in your arms,

You wanted to keep me forever;

On the quay of farewell,

Heavy as a winter coat,

The separation bent you into two


You shouted my name ‘Ani!’

Anita Bacha