Dreams like nightmares are made of the same material. But this particular nightmare purports to the only dream we can have: a model of development that adores things and scorns life….

Eduardo Galeano

SELECTED POEMS

Swinging Cradles

The Trapped Butterfly

Another Man Another Broken Promise

Cruel Faces

No one knows their Names or where they go away

 

 

 

 Swinging Cradles 

Ras H. Siddiqui
Living, dying, just little brown bodies
Tossed out like burnt or old uneaten chappati bread
For all kinds of hungry animals including human
Who prey upon the defenseless and the unwanted
Children of a lesser god? Or is it lesser parents?
Products of rape, of despair, or of illicit love
Of the poorest, the richest and the middle damned
But Children none the less, human children
Pakistani children who out of no fault of their own
Happened to be born, out of wedlock, religion, rage
Who have little chance but to find a cradle behind wire mesh
A protected sanctuary program for discarded babies who
Hope to be found and be sent to homes where
They can fill the gap of happiness for the childless
The couples who can appreciate the value of such a gift
And who truly know the love of god and his ninety-nine names.
 U P 

 

 The Trapped Butterfly 

Aliya Zaidi
They dragged her by the heels
To the furthest corner of the beach.
Their hands were dirty.
Their glances furtive.
They left her for dead.
They walked away.
They thought they had raped her.
They didn't know that she
Was raped aeons before
She was raped the day.
 They said rape takes four to see
Any fewer see only sex.
She was raped again the day they said
If it's her husband
It's not rape.
She was raped again
When they said
She only saw a crime
If someone else saw it too.
They left her for dead
 But she lived.
She lived because finally
Someone had raped her.
And finally she could scream.
 U P 
 

 Another Man Another Broken Promise 
Adapted by Khurram from the song, "She wants to runaway" by Zane
Life treats her bad.
She survives....
A part of her dies every day
As she falls deeper and deeper in a world 
Of lust, deception and animal instincts. 
He is gone when she wakes up.
Another man, another broken promise.
She hides her face in shame in those dirty silk sheets.
  She wants to runaway, but 
Three questions torment her...
"Who will accept me?"
"Where will I go?"
"Is suicide the right thing to do?"
She knows that committing suicide is a sin 
But, not greater than selling one's soul...
Life treats her bad.
She survives....
She is a wilting flower
Waiting for the man who will love her forever
And save her from the humiliation and pain  
Of earning a few red notes for the master...
 U P 

 

 Cruel Faces 

Humaira Majid

A little child I saw in the street,
With torn clothes and worn feet
His hair unkept and filled with dust
For a girl so small, it wasn't just.
I looked at her with an eye so keen.
I could see no smile on her face.
I asked her kindly:
"What do you do?
What's your name?
Unveil your face..."
But no reply came.
I asked her again and again.
She wasn't bound.
She stared at me and quietly went away
Leaving my heart full of dismay.
Her answer was clear
So fragile a child
So hard a task
But why didn't she answer me?
Perhaps she could see clearly that
Nothing we can do for her
We all you and me...
I really found what I couldn't bear
Those cruel faces behind the mask...
 U P 
 
 

 
 No one knows their Names or Where they go away... 
What can they do?
They have no shoulder to cry on.
No one to hear their plea.
Eyes filled with disappointment,
They gaze at the sky with a never ending resentment.
Dreams are their only companions that 
Console their burdened hearts.
Enveloped in the arms of darkness,
Their relentless search for light continues...
What can she do?
She finally falls asleep,
Tired from begging for something to eat.
Can we feel her pain?
She dwells on dreams, which too shatter like broken glass.
In a life filled with thorns,
Her search for roses continues...
What about the child who cries in the mirror?
What about the boy in the sun?
What about the girl with an empty stomach?
What about the child who is an addict?
Mamma has no money
To feed her six children.
They have no pastimes.
They have no love. 
No one knows their names or 
Where they go away...
 U P 

 

 
Flames of Poverty

|Home Page|    |Overview of Poverty|    |Trapped Butterflies|    |Loss of Innocence|  
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Content Writing Team: Zane, Khurram, Xaenub and Saima.
Special Thanks to Ms. Roohi and Dr. Feroza for their support and encouragement.  

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