Pangs Of The Motherland - Poem by Shahida Latif
Oh! Almighty, Omniscient, Omnipotent God,
The Maker of all scheme of the universe,
What wrongs blunderingly we have done,
Which evoked the waves of mighty wrath,
Only one shake, quake made us all helpless,
And broke, crush the unyielding crests of pride.
These deeds were ours or the ruling statues,
Devoid of fear who supported your enemies,
And whose minds were paralyzed to estimate,
Your powers and favours possessed for them.
Whose blind deeds the earth shook off,
From its back, indifferent to the holocaust,
Its quakes made ravaging the lush crop of life,
Or these enormous bloody jerks and jolts,
Were the tests of our stock of endurance?
Whatever the motive is, You know much better,
But the poetic eyes have seen the spectrum,
Of unprecedented, unassessable extensive loss
In the entire human plighted plagued history.
The thriving slopes of valleys, the peaks of hills
And mountains where the corn of life swayed,
In ecstasy like an amphitheatre of mustard,
That announces heralding the arrival of Spring,
On the plains of Punjab whose rivers take birth,
From the plighted overshaken slopes and peaks,
Where from the structure of life tumbled down.
The houses, the cottages: the debris of dreams,
Lay shattered upon the shroudless indwellers,
And some cried helplessly seeing the ballet,
Of death in front, wait appalled to be retrampled.
Ah! Who are these who play the bestial sports,
By plundering and pillaging the exposed limbs,
Beastly chopping for bangles and rings of gold.
How Man fell from culminating, sublime heights,
To the abysmal depths of butchery, bloodshed.
To pollute, smear the fair earth, daubing all red.
Ah! On thousands of acres the numerous rallies,
Of cherished dreams walk bare bleeding sore feet,
And knock aloud at the each fallen shattered door
Of the silence yards where the sapling lie buried,
Clenching the toys with their unpulsating breasts.
All poetic diction, similes and metaphors together,
Can not narrate, describe and circumvent the bulk,
Dimension and magnitude of the crushing infliction;
O! Eyes, then weep, weep and weep till all stock,
Of the reserved tears is drained, till blood spouts,
Spurts and squirts out from the sockets of brain.
Oh! My nation the role, the courage you displayed,
Are commendable, matchless, and unprecedented,
Oh! My defenders be alert, vigilant and watchful,
Not only you defend the boundaries, its spheres,
But also guard underneath the subterranean layers,
Of the motherland heralding encroaching dangers.
Comments about Pangs Of The Motherland by Shahida Latif
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye
A Dream Within A Dream
Edgar Allan Poe