Storm

Another school shooting, another debate. When will this stop?  Congress have blood in their hands. Hiding behind the second amendment, debate will go on between the gun lobby and those clamoring for gun restriction while innocents will pay the price.

I wrote this poem a day after six religious fanatics shot dead hundred and forty nine people including hundred and thirty two students in a school in Peshawar, Pakistan on December 14, 2014.  Originally posted this poem in my blog on December 20, 2015. 

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Storm

There was a storm here yesterday,
And I saw this tree
Bereft of all the beautiful colored foliages,
Strewn all around it on the ground.
One leaf was clinging to a branch
Quivering in the winds, trying to hang around.

I wanted to tell that single leaf,
Hang on, winter will be over and in spring
All your friends will come back with new hope,
Spreading happiness to all who come by.

I promised that on my way back home,
I will pick up that single leaf
and keep it between the pages of my book
till spring comes and everything will be happy again.

Mom, I am sorry I will not be coming back home.
Not to-day, not ever.
Little did I know the evil storm coming for me,
To rob me of my spring forever.

There was no warning, nowhere to hide.
The evil came from everywhere,
and when the storm was over
like the fallen leaves around the tree
We were all lying there.

Alas, unlike the tree
Spring will not bring back rejuvenation.
From here on it’s a long dark winter.
Mom, it’s cold, damp and dark here,
How I wish for your warm embrace,
But it’s not going to be

All around me I see dark shadows
All who have come here before me
From four corners of the world
From every nationalities.

Unanswered questions
Will remain unanswered.
(Because) those brokers of peace and death,
Those clad in the grab of patriotism and religion,
Clad in the grab of nationalities and language,
Will lip sync to “Never Again”.

Yes Mom, it will never again be spring for me.
But till the day every parent takes a stand,
To teach the real meaning of peace and respect
To their child,
This storm will visit many other unfortunates,
To rob them of their spring.

Mom, it is too dark and cold here.
Will the summer sun warm me up ever?

Mom, do not grieve.
Like the leaf between the pages of the book,
Do not keep me hidden in your heart.
Be my voice and shout to the world, NEVER AGAIN!
Do not allow another storm
To blow away thousand springs.
And when your work is done,
And time for a well deserved rest has come,
Look for that lonely leaf,
I will be waiting for thee.