@ Remains Of A War Poem by Sadiqullah Khan

They carry their dead on the shoulders
They are on the look for a place in the earth
Before they are dead. The fire emitting angels
Wait till the last minute decision. Raped, strangulated,
From an unknown disease, in a holy war, or just named shreds.
They await a long jury, because they had been born to humans.

They are the remains of a war, like fire in compost,
Neither ash, nor ember. Smoke neither. They have been seduced,
Misled, enchained, with their own will. Is this a holocaust,
Or when the Moses fled the Pharaohs, to the promised land.

They are carrying the earth under your feet, like bull’s horns.
The earth you call homeland. They have been carrying, you,
You-worthless, on their shoulders. And you, of stars and spangles,
You have won your peripheral war. The hammer and sickle,
Cross and crescent, every one declared victory.

They are still carrying their dead, on their shoulders,
What if, had they been walking on earth alive or declared martyrs.
With a little moisture, this land is rich and bountiful,
Whether from hills, or from desert, they make good fodder for cannons.