How many times will we read
how many times will we see
how many times will we hear
how many times will we fear
when suicide bombers detonate
what they are hiding under their vests,
when trucks and buses drive onto
people walking on the streets unaware,
when bombs explode at airports
and rip people apart like burnt chestnuts,
when terrorists shoot without mercy
and make people run for shelter,
when prayer places get strewn
with dead bodies by sudden explosions.
How much can eyes behold bewilderment
when one sees death and debris everyday
as terror keeps escalating its steps of wrath,
as innocent children in terror-torn countries
keep crying for food, comfort and sleep;
yet in the streets man keep shooting man
man keep hurling bombs at each other
missiles keep raining like sparks of fire;
and as eyes keep watching the devastation
the heart keeps asking - what is the value
of a human life in this moment of time;
what is the value of education in human mind
when triggers are pulled and grenades hurled
without respect for existence or age;
as babies die in the hands of feeding mothers
due to exhaustion and lack of nutrition;
while the youth by a bullet or bombshell
loses his life without an ounce of dignity;
while the country itself in silence cries
unseen tears for terror has played its game
and made men run behind the ball of hatred
which keeps shifting sides, pushing ahead
getting to all corners, penalizing anyone
while onlookers, spectators helplessly watch
trying to help, trying to end the game
but terror has its players who tirelessly move
to keep the eyes of the innocents
in bewilderment and pain.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The brutality and horror unleashed by terrorist activities in Stockholm and elsewhere in the world have been brought alive in the poem. Very sad and painful. Thanks for sharing. ]]] rip people apart like burnt chestnuts, as babies die in the hands of feeding mothers