Fie To The Freeloader Poem by Hannatu Pqrs

My father was killed fighting for our freedom
Grandfather as well
Most of my friends also volunteered
for our freedom
with all they had,
their lives

I cannot think, my mind is blank
I cannot cry: the tears, they no longer come
Just yesterday, my only surviving sister was killed,
at school
A bomb had targeted their school area
My aged grandmother, all I have left
Even her, every now and then,
I lose to trance
The other day, our bullet-battered house
was demolished
for the third time
by the infidels
Imagine!
The tenant is denying the landlord the right
to build upon his own land

The camp intended to be our refuge,
never safe
We're denied passports; denied exit
from our own land,
beleaguered on every side

Where are our oil-rich brothers
when we need them most?
Ah! I've heard, indeed, I believe,
they've allied themselves
with our enemies; their enemies
for a paltry price
What's to live for?
The future looks bleak

Yet,
I will not
and neither will any one of us
in this sacred nation,
give up this fight
If we have no weapons; if we have no voice,
at least, we've got our lives
Shall we not set about putting them to good use,
and still end up mujtahids?