Do you define it as courage?
Or is it a kind of outrage
Sparking off the blood-hued flares
Igniting all particles of wrath present in the air
Curses etched on the strips of little paper
Nailed into the cloth flesh of gnarled voodoo people
As the fire nibbles it up, leaving the edges grilled and charred.
Or does it spread a smile across one’s face
Reaching out an olive branch to the human race
Hallelujah, sparkling tears of joy roll down from war-weary eyes
It’s finally over. One can finally step home and enjoy the time of his life
Sipping a creamy cup of coffee, laughing out loud with his family’s company
In the comfort of a beige-themed living room, assuring peace will last eternally
As we shift our lens to the other perspective, see the other side
We hear footsteps. Feet dragged across the serene tomb, bisecting the icy riptide
Kneeling down on the soggy olive sand, then submitting numbly, refusing to fight
The watery grave that engulfed one’s love, he will never come back
Returned to one’s doorstep in a little box draped with the national flag
One’s life shattered with the sledgehammer of reality instantly
Fear, anguish, and irrationality gushes in overwhelmingly
Every breath is painful. One’s lungs punctured from pain.
Turning around, looking at him who enjoys his fruitful gains
An utter outrage of modesty of the dignity of one’s home
Bliss is history. All that ever was has now evolved into foam
A family destroyed. Someone’s life torn apart, what a blunt outrage
But to the triumphant soldier, this is the act of courage.
tazmin
ġham tumhārā thā zindagī goyā tum ko khoyā use nahīñ khoyā fart-e-girya se jī na halkā ho bas yahī soch kar nahīñ royā ashk to ashk haiñ sharāb se bhī maiñ ne ye dāġh-e-dil nahīñ dhoyā maiñ vo kisht-e-nashāt kyoñ kāTūñ jis ko maiñ ne kabhī nahīñ boyā aabla aabla thī jaañ phir bhī bār-e-hastī
