Monday, January 22, 2018
SLAM POETRY

LAND IN RUINS

he house was new, Let me see those scars and the broken bones, of the kid on the street holding a stone.

He spoke in words that I can’t quote, felt like a razor in my throat.

“I have the body of a kid and a heart of a rebel, for the land I love is turning into rubble”

said the boy with no fear in his eyes, “my struggle will never die”

I picked a stone and took a vow, to make his pain my own somehow.

Walked into the mist and heard the cries, so vicious, I can’t justify.

I took the aim and threw the stone, screamed in rage and I did groan.

I don’t run, I don’t hide, I am not shy and I’ve never lied.

“My house was burned, my parents were killed”, heard those words and I was thrilled.

“They raped my sister then pulled the trigger, in that place a cry still lingers.

I came from school and saw the mess, fell to my knees in distress.

Ran to where my father sits, found a shoe and polished it.

Ran to where my father sits, found a shoe and polished it.

Ran to where my mother cooks, to see one last time how she looks.

I then ran to my sister’s study,

found a body left for me to bury”

The world is at war, a silent war, we’re in the middle of an ocean, looking for the shore.

The world is at war, a silent war and I am a rebel, yes, I did swore!

Mujadid Gilani

Student Reporter
October-2016