Laaltain

Peshawar

22 ستمبر، 2013

Tahir Wadood Malik
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From class 7 till fourth year (8 years) the best part of my life i spent in Peshawar, and today once again i am faced with the pain of my peo­ple cry­ing over their dead!

My friends were there
Pray­ing to God
My peo­ple all bowed
Ask­ing for His bless­ings
For them and theirs
And for Pak­istan
Every­one there was mine
Chil­dren mine
Girls mine
Boys mine
Youth mine
Moth­ers mine
Fathers mine
Old aged mine
All on their knees
Singing hymns
And say­ing ‘aamin’
Sun­day best
Dress­es and mood
Hap­pi­ness and mirth
All of this earth.
And a deaf­en­ing sound
Heat, pain, fire around
Dis­be­lief, fly­ing met­al
Sky rend­ing cries
And anoth­er sound
Adding to the din
Limbs and clothes
Shoes and san­dals
Sobs and groans
Silence and moans
My peo­ple all
Shat­tered and torn
Ask­ing where if the God
They had just invoked
Anoth­er sto­ry,
Anoth­er lament,
More pho­to-ops and
Media to com­ment
Three days to mourn
Then back to work
The usu­al drudge.
The night falls
Silence reigns
An occa­sion­al sob to show
Life exists in death­ly throes
To cry the names of one
Who will nev­er return,
Home, left torn.
The ques­tion again
Rais­es its head
Where is the will
To stop this blood­shed
Or do we wait
With bleed­ing hearts
The dawn of anoth­er day
And dread the next news
Of man’s hatred?


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