Comments about Aaqib Hyder
The smile of a child lost in a conflict,
the wails of a mother echoing in my ears.
The cloak of a bride tainted red,
her groom's blood spilled all over.
The tears in the eyes of a mother in wait,
of his son disappeared in a moonless night.
A bony old face trampled by jackboots,
height of tyranny under the mighty chinars.
I remember the childhood caught in barbed wires,
I remember the blood of martyrs of my soil.