In the cool autumn morn
all that I stood for
liberty, empathy
promethian energy
for goodness reigned
and equality,
shattered
the idol of ozymandias
at last stands
on my exhausted tired
body and soul
a balm
for the beridden
frame, a calm
is laved on
my tissues torn
by the hands above in love
that were born
on the graves
near half a million
of my daughters and sons
who left our sides
by a plague grave
for fault their’s none
by reckless hauteur, unconcern
a flame of contrition
is lit tonight in mourn
for the mother
deported
whose lap was emptied
her little babe ruthlessly
snatched by hearts frozen
stone
a passionate welcome
this night
shall come
graceless chivalry a hand
restrains
walls never block bridges
human
my breath’s warp torn
for long may remain
but time tarries for no hero
no nero
spoken has my nation
in Minneapolis one man, a race
whose air
was made rare
by a knee harsh
millenniums of cruelty
rash
tonight
he, his people freely
may you breathe, Floyd
no person one
today has lost or won
burnishes hope’s torch
in the hands empty
of lady
liberty
women, men have spoken
once more
for a halcyon turn
there is people in groundswell
in elation over streets
of this land
around
the dark house of white
like golden rust leaves
over the corner a spring abounds
the shining city on the hill
returns in a fresh morn
The writer is former chief secretary of Khyber Pakhtunkhwa. He can be reached at [email protected]