My Country's Not a Terrorist Place

Reads: 706  | Likes: 4  | Shelves: 1  | Comments: 4

Status: Finished  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: Booksie Classic


 

Sixteen bled and Earth exploded; her bosom oozed the blood out drop by drop

The day when innocent squeaks and cries reached from bottom to the top!

Mother Earth never opens the door to her heart without the key

But 16's Black Wind blew through closed windows; lungs had to breathe tragedy!

 

The number sixteen is for the 16th of December

Where terrorism started for a day to remember!

It just entered without a warning, without telling

With earsplitting noise of shooting and shelling!

 

Words from this language or any other would never be able to justify

The violence, the oppression and brutality; it would never be able to rectify!

Black powder, smoke and fire cements in hearts the Black Paradise

Where dreams get faded; where everything falls and can never rise!

 

Has it to be my country, my home, my mother, my love

That has to tolerate more than just enough?

Knives to swords, swords to bullets and bullets to grenades

Has always had to encounter the terror that never fades!

 

Let me just take you to the dark room of my nation state

Where you will decide if you blame it for spreading terrorism,

If it is the only place where treachery spreads its wings

And has no space for love and affection nor it can ever bring!

 

A depressed mother with no doubt, can state

How has she breathed and struggled with her ill-fate!

Her son, the green military man of no lack

Had brutally got martyred in 16's Terrorist Attack!

 

The news shook hearts and quaked the earth

Snatched, ate and swallowed all its mirth!

'Attack on Army Public School' echoed, numbed her feet

Tears welled up, her knees crumbled for that situation to meet!

 

Wished if she could shut her ears

Longed if she could close her eyes and block the falling building of tears!

Craved, her heart could stop pumping

As the news in her nerves kept on bumping!

 

Now the dawn dawns with the recall of the days

When she used to blow the kiss of prayers in his ways!

She cries on the prayer mat till her head falls and she faints

Rushes to the cupboard, smells his shirt and so tragically the story she paints!

 

'Did not he finish his breakfast and leave

Took his bag, gave me a kiss as he always used to give!’

‘And came home not he zealous, but dead

His lips were silent, fingers still and face was blotted red!'

 

'I wanted to go mad and blind and deaf at once

But my heart had a brain, eyes, ears and a tongue!'

'Our son has left!' Women shouted and screamed

'Fate could be so reckless, I had never ever dreamed!'

 

At day time she hears his shouts and cries

Sighs; gets startled with every single fall and every single rise!

At night she sits in front of the door waiting for a knock

Poor Love has lost her hunger and even stopped to talk!

 

Alone at her home though being with husband, mother-in-law

2 p.m., the clock strikes turning her existence stinging and raw!

She prepares one plate extra on the dining table

With the pool of dehydrated tears dancing instable!

 

Told many a times, 'Your son won't come, open your eyes!'

One day she loses her patience, 'Don't you all be wise!'

'He's here, somewhere! My mischievous kid

Laughs and then screams a cry, 'Oh what to him they did!'

 

Little Talha’s room is locked for her to enter

But no one locked his essence that is the center!

She has faded herself in his memory, his laughter, that color Red

His still body, his stained shirt, his death-bed!

 

Her world has flown into the end stream

She hears no Salam, no laughter and no scream!

She is mute, she is half-dead

Her eyes have cemented her fore-head!

 

How dare I question how dare I point?

That a mother to whom her son was the joint

Has been murdered, deprived of her life, left alone to whine

And taken to mental asylum, registered 'Not fine!'

 

What can be so tragic that no one gets close to her?

'Darkness' is the only friend with whom she seems to murmur!

Total loss of senses she is going through

Sits in corner of the room, talking to herself and moaning too!

 

Is this so depressing to clench your heart and tickle your eye?

This is my country my home my mother my love, though has lost the tie!

You won’t ever visit because it’s a terrorist place?

Call it once again, repeat, criticize, disparage; fill the last blank space!

 

Calling out for help and no one is here

Only the name of Death is close and oh so near!

He was our son, she was our mother

Who will be the next? I or some other?

 

No I won’t ever cry, I won’t ever say

That my country’s a death valley giving genocides a way!

It is not like other countries, it is Pakistan

Land of love, purity, sacrifice not complimenting sabotage!


Submitted: March 15, 2018

© Copyright 2023 Rehmat Tanzila. All rights reserved.

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Comments

Mike S.

Seems to a scourge that no one is safe from Rehmat, excellent!

Thu, March 15th, 2018 5:18pm

Author
Reply

Thank you Mike!

Thu, March 15th, 2018 8:52pm

hullabaloo22

Oh, wow, Rehmat, this is some powerful write. So many places, so many problems, so many wars.

Thu, March 15th, 2018 6:56pm

Author
Reply

Thanks Hully :)

Thu, March 15th, 2018 8:57pm

LeParadisNoirPoetique

Rehmat my sweet this is the most powerful and personal poem that you will ever write. I really don't know where to begin, because each word is so haunting, and this is about one of the worst subjects in history. I know how long and how hard you worked on this, because doing this poem meant so much to you, and if poetry was war, you would be the winning soldier, the winning poet. This focuses on how terrorism has affected a mother and her child, and the portrayal is shockingly real and undeniably haunting. So many of your lines I can point out that are quite harrowing, because terrorism is not a natural disaster, it is made by humanity, and that makes it worse. A son that is a child of military, wanting to protect his nation, his people, and it is the cruelest death. It's tragic that it will lead his mother into her own terrorism, because her tears are in a mental asylum now. I love your passion at the end, because Pakistan is not the enemy, it is not the land of terrorism, it is a country of honest, hard working people who believe in their family and their faith. Your country is allowed beliefs and culture, and while I may not understand them, I respect them dearest. One of your finest ever poems, beautiful as it is brutal. Darkly compelling in telling the truth. This is so good that I've actually run out of words to say :)

Thu, March 15th, 2018 11:56pm

Author
Reply

Thanks dearest. Yes my country's not a terrorist place and I love my country so much despite of all that happens. Because love has no reasons and it can never have. I'm in tears while reading your beautiful words. You just made my day again as usual! Thank you for such kind appreciation! It doesn't matter I lost the competitions but I still win the hearts of my readers; my loveliest readers and it's more than enough for me :)

Thu, March 15th, 2018 8:57pm

saphiara

Its such a powerful poem..we can never blame a whole country ! There are innocent people everywhere and no country is the safest , every place in the world has a wrong bunch ..
The world should unite rather than pointing at each other ..a mother's loss her tears..the love of a soldier for his country..blood ..its same everywhere. We have to support each other instead of blaming .. there are innocent children everywhere who wanna see a bright future , its so inhuman of us to criticise each other instead of fighting together against terror..no country can be called a terrorist place , we all are innocent commoners that want to live in peace ..

Sat, March 17th, 2018 4:05am

Author
Reply

You are absolutely right. But no one understands it. I really appreciate your kind words Saph. :)

Fri, March 16th, 2018 10:37pm

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