The Shaking Leaf

The Shaking Leaf

Born in paradise---

Growing, living, die in wars

Even not in month and day

Rather minute and second

Only earshot suicide and blast

Kabul or Peshawar.

Grown-up told us

It was a land of birds

Worshiping  the beauty

Thrilling voice of Nightingale

Shepherd flute break 

The silence Afternoon 

Sit under the shade of lofty Chinar

The more listen to him, the more love

Child liked storyteller

Ages went to bed

All were sitting in Hujra around him

In front of the fireplace

In short, peace and peace.

Now only names remain of them

Nothing save to tell

No more shepherd flutes

Thrilling voice of Nightingales

Paradise lost!

Even birds and Springs are discontent and unhappy

No wish to come to land’s Pashtun

Mothers became widows

Childs became orphans

Brothers lament for sisters

Sisters for them

Father hardship even mother

Awaken nights sleeveless

Neither mother saw the love of Rose, Nor Rose

Now only they read it in book.

Tempest fall ripen Roses

Mothers have been denied

To more birth Heart Pieces 

Argued! The results will be the same.

The story does not end here

Praying and lamenting for martyred

More alive disappeared

Do not know

For how long parents are dreaming

And waiting and seeing their way

Even knock on the doors of others

“Have you not information about our Roses”?

No sympathy, the door is closed!!

What is left for saying

Blood for wounded

Here need mothers to feed other orphans

Time heals the pains-----scarcely believed!

Pashtun have been strained crossfire

Others die natural death or epidemics

Only Pashtun born, growing up

Living and Even die in wars.

Our Shoulders sprained

Seen and rouse a lot funerals

Feed up, tired, and detest war

Welcome to peace and Spring

Wandering and tousled hairs

Even our eyes avidity for peace

Do not know where peace has been concealed!

Maybe where birds live and chirping

Made a Nest among lofty Chinar

Peace and Springs discontented from the one

Sprawled wars and hates

Made mothers widows and beggars

Lamenting and spread their skirts

Asking one-time bread for THEIR HEART PIECES!

Willing both will return to ruined and barren land

On condition ceasefire to wars.

Praying!

Bring that peace

As grown-up told

No more wars rather peace and peace

War open war and destruction

No more tempest fall ripen ROSES

Laments and dry lips and funerals

Clouds! Rain and rain to wipe dull faces

Forgot how to laugh and to smile!

Hugs to Peace and Spring

To spread laughter on our dully faces.

Let's shatter guns

Making flutes for shepherds,

Qalam for the one who cries for the light

Give them pen and book

Peace and Springs pleased

Out from nest and lofty Chinars

To riches and sprawling wings 

On a condition ceasefire to war.

~Sana Ullah Wazir