Tonight, it rains on my land here.
The splashes of water shine white in the light of the neighborhood’s Masjid.
Only the tinkering of raindrops can be heard
But Inside me :
Cries of people, whamming of walls, thunder of bombs
and a sickening heat of innocent blood
flowing far away there.
Look over there!
Past the rubble and past the black smoke!
They still stand to fight with whatever is left.
And the ever unfair enemy asks- does death not kill them?
From the river to the sea
Though Tears, dirt ,and agony have mixed with misery,
Yet it’s a festival of marvellous aspirations
And while my pen is overwhelmed with angst and sadness here,
The rain outside has stopped