Dark Reality Poem by MJ Khalid

Call of the handcuffed Angel

The palm of shadow touched the water tumbler,
was not the real palm, just calm
the distance remained same between water and the mouth,
Three inches down and seven inches south,
How life was worst than death this summer!
As the efforts grew, the words turned into murmur
and lost its natural shape, that too with a gap
The tongue became hard
and throat turned dry, dry, dry......

Broken Almira, damaged table and wet carpet
all deaf ears, undiscerning, forlorn
Neither sun nor moon, nor benevolence,
dreams on the floor, aspirations on the fence,
neither calculable hitch, nor day nor night,
what a no task moment, what a sorry-plight,
burdensome situation, how to cope,
In the so called room there is no room for hope,
No song, no music, no sleep no dream,
No body nearby to listen to scream,
She is alone and her cry, cry, cry....

Life mourns shot after shot, frame by frame
What is the dangerous game?
Change is a phenomenon, change is a fact,
The changing world has its own impact,
lily is plucked, smashed, thrown away,
butterflies are stoned and groaned at
green fields are turning into graveyards
for unarmed petals, for unsung heroes,
human habitations are bushes of concretes,
having no space for emotions, all turning wild
life has become a deal - you kill, i kill
let us make the life weard, meaningless,
set hypocrisy in the name of dialogue,
life and death is at par,
economic age and economic war,
no body questions the terror planners
no body questions the responsible for bloodshed,
terror zones are created, managed, executed, recorded
Life is at stake, no one cares,
Terror is an industry, growing day and night,
All bewilderment and half truths turn bright
people seek refuge in tents, intellectual comas,
Then come human rights protectors, they are also forces,
human being gets repackaged into numerals,
Numbers, that are odds and even
Beirut, Baluchistan, Burma and Chechnya,
These are mere different names,
Kill is the same, methodology is same,
Hard phrase does not get fame,
Brand is different, stuff is same,
Tom Uncle, this business is at rise,
Saviours are too killers in disguise,
... and saviours are divine as usual.
Above doubt, above all questions

In a closed abandoned dark room
A hand cuffed baby of merely six
An untold story is here to fix,
she has lost her brother, mother and cousin,
who were innocent, had done no sin,
the scene was full of order less bin,
slashed into pieces by mutinous Jin
At this juncture, what she must be thinking, guess?
full of blood is the face and dress,
why? She is the lone witness (of off the record shoot out)
the unexpected situation is crestfallen,
where is the media, Where is the press?
Through the windpipe of heart, who will feel the mess,
The handcuffed angel is calling,
She is asking for help, food, water and light
Like million other children she wants her own sky,
she wants her hands to be free to say hello and goodbye,
Here is the truth and here only we are shy. shy, shy