When Disturbed Poem by Prof Niamat Ali Murtazai

When disturbed I feel myself a slain petal
That is crushed under feet of stone hearted ones
Who think that feelings are made of some metal
Or the human beings are harder than cattle.

When disturbed I feel myself a shattered glass
That with some deep sorrow shatters its body all
And becomes more worthless than feet kissing grass
And the shadows of swayimg gloom become tall.

When disturbed I feel myself a tearful eye
That is to shed worthless drops without reason
And it seems that heart and soul are going to die
Charming Spring weeps to be the autumn season.

When disturbed I feel myself a torn light kite
That is hanging from some high tree or some wire
That is to spend there its long day and dark night
That is punushed for the crime of rising higher.

When disturbed I feel myself a juiceless fruit
That is to be thrown on dust as being worthless
To be kicked by passing feet or sniffed by brute
What I can call myself except a soul helpless.

When disturbed I lose interest in life itself
Nor anything else becomes a cherished dream
Nothing exists even the universe itself
Deep darknness not pierced by any wanton beam.