A Writer Repents Poem by Aadil Hingorjo

Most awaited drops rain not
And the delayed dreams hover
Drizzle the tears deep down
A sad rainstorm is upon earth
Right there on that pathetic path
Spring and autumn smoke together
Drying is December summer sucks
A dilemma keeps on dotting the doors
Bird-less branches tighten the time
And smiles seem to happen nowhere
Wrinkles upon the firm cheeks
A page of the past glories
Cries a poet on his paper!
A disturbed room, half-opened windows
And the semi-closed door
That opens against the seashore
Flipping of pages soothe his senses
Sketches hover in atmosphere
Hovers the dirty mist of breathlessness
Peacocks' rhythms get reeling down
Silence surpasses the era
Stately truths destroy the peaceful noon
And namely nuns push a common Christian
Mullah's Islam sickens Muslims
Bhagavat-Gita contemplates over the meantime
And a Hindu is torn between castes
So are Muslims
Distinguished Syeds, Respected Arabs
1st class Muslims and 3rd grade Muslims
Folks are out of room
Attacks are glorified
And attackers historicized
Guns too recite the false Kalimas
Pushing the sick, ill pedestrians
Womanizers vow for revolution
Emerging talent strokes embers
Nothing and still everything arises
Parch lips meet the death
Lower down the all pale eyes
Music masters!
Revolution retraces
Cries a struggler all of sudden
Yearns a lover for her beloved
And the Guards celebrate the moment
None but them are safe
Their stars and their credits
To them is credited the privilege
Once again a writer dies there
The sunken humanity dies!