Wednesday, December 17, 2014

Peshawar, our hearts bleed for you.

This poem is titled "The Smallest Coffins are the Heaviest", after a line written by Ernest Hemingway. It has been written by Kirthi Jayakumar for the children of Peshawar. 

One day it's terror, one day it's war,
Another day it's rape, and peace seems far.
Drowned in a sea of ugly, brutish violence.
Death roars, and the loudest thing is silence.

I want to be free.
I want to be me.
Why should I pay a price,
for someone Else's vice?

When will it stop, when will it end?
Our lives are torn, we have wounds to mend.
But frozen stiff in the palm of pain,
Our memories are blotted with stain after stain.

Someone's child, someone's mother.
Someone's father, someone's brother.
When will it stop, When will it end?
Are these wounds that one can ever mend?

We lie in wait, for peace and for calm,
Begging, for our wounded minds, a soothing balm.
Hanging onto a weak flicker of hope for a better tomorrow.
Of hope that somehow, someday, we'll tide over this sorrow.