Treasure Island

Sadiqullah Khan


When the fish moved in the metallic color
That water coming from the far off spring
In underground channels
Whose inventions no one knew
Pharaohs might have invented
Pyramids for their eternity
But here in this small village
Which shone like silver and the green patches
Like emeralds
The fishes in the metallic colors
A bite on the finger of that young boy
The people had not yet learned
Eating fishes
No genius of the pyramid was required
It was invention of the people in that village
The green cedar trees which tangoed
With the music of soft breeze
In full moon the small fish would come out
For a dance which gave motif to the weaver
The rugs were named after those little creatures
For the fancy of imagination by the fireplace
The treasure of the village was lost
Much before the inhabitants that survived it
Dried are the streams of water now
The crab has run away to die on hot soil
The fish breathed their last in memory
Of the days and nights spent in the village
Their sweet cold channels are traversed
By soldiers with heavy boots and in search of booty
Not to catch fish but terrorists
The home of the fishes
Dried and destroyed with heavy gun fire
(On the destruction of underground water channels which was natural habitat of fish, crabs and humans in South Waziristan, Pakistan)

Submitted: Friday, October 10, 2008

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