Children of Dir – my children my death

Today, 122 children were wounded in a ferocious attack on a civilian population. Poor, innocent children were brutally wounded and over 22 killed as a bomb exploded in the Dir district of Pakistan. Fatalities are still to be calculated.
Imagine a world where our children are amputated and buried due to the futile efforts made by government officials to stabilize the growing concerns of safety and law governance. When we bury our children, we bury our future. We bury the deep and inner segments of our soul. There is no antiseptic that can negate the wounds and cure the disease. The ailment has no cure.
But the greatest question is why are we burying our children? We are at war and we have no ideas who are these people and why are they trespassing on our parade. India, USA, Taliban? Give us answers. I have buried too many loved ones to know the difference between love and hate.
If we are strong within and keep our head up high and speak up, we can change the environment. We can try to manipulate the consequences of fate and give birth to new ideas and segments. We as a nation nee to grow accustomed to changing our pattern and our leaders.
We are all now being tempted. We need to fear the unknown. We need to dig deep and realize who sold us and at what price. The instabilities have left us to wonder about our food and our children. Like rats in a tunnel that forgets the surroundings and the odor and only worry about survival. And in this turmoil, people take advantages. PPP or PML are both traitors to the people. They have let children of Pakistan die.
DAWN today gave names of the Black water soldiers who have died. In our paper, in our language. What about the names of the 122 beautiful bodies and soul who had to witness such a tragic incident. Imagine what we could and would have done if it were our children. Is this the Pakistan we believe in. is this the dreams of our Quiad. I will do jihad of the pen. I will write till I bleed. I have written to stone my heart’s content. We are all traitors. Each day someone dies. Each day we forget.
Peace is the only solution. Tell the enemies of this nation that we will beat them through economic progress and maintain stability of our pride and our convictions. These are not negotiable. There is no turning back. We do not have a price.
I wonder how the politicians and beracracy have ruined this nation and have galvanized this nation into this perplexed state of affairs. Have they no common knowledge that without this existence, their leadership roles will be depleted. Have they forgotten that nations are wiped off the surface once leaders like them come to surface?
For the children that have died today in Dhir. I salute them and pray to them for their souls. I write this poem for them. If my politicians are asleep and my people are dead in silence, this pen will write on. This pen will bear witness that you were our future. My future.
How many burials does this nation need?
How many loved ones will we kiss away to dirt?
My future buried beneath rubble
Fragile hands of today carrying the dead bodies of our tomorrows
Our today crying in pain
As our leaders, politicians and bureaucracy basking in scintillated glory
They have sold our nation
Our pride and our honor
Scoundrels haunt us down
Terrorism attacks kill us daily
Drone fired targets burn our homes
Within the ghastly images
I see faces of my children calling me for safety
I smell the flowers of my land being burnt
I inhale the fumes of death as I walk aimlessly into silence
Today, I remain
But what for?
My tomorrows are gone
And my past a culmination of my silence and my trepid emotions
Oh Dhir
We have buried you too!