धुआँ बनकर कल।

ये पर्दा
अभी नहीं गिरने वाला
क्योंकि नब्ज़ लेती है साँस
जो कि धुँआ बनकर कल
चुभती रही आंखों में
और खून के कतरे
मिलते रहे सभी
वक़्त के सायों से
मरने की ख्वाहिशों का
जीने की बदौलत
मरना नही होता
और मौत के डरावने रंग
बिखर जाते हैं
चादरों पर
जो मिलने को हैं
कहीं किसी शाख पर।

मैं ठोकरों की जीभ पर
अनगिनत छेदों को पाता हूँ
और मिलता हूँ उससे
जो कि घुटनों के बल खड़ा है
और हाथ की सभी उंगलियां
टेढ़ी हुई पड़ी हैं।

27 जनवरी 2019
कॉपीराइट @
'अनपढ़'

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