Tahir Wadood Malik
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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