Suicide Note (Final Part): The Trial

Stand there me,
To witness story of her life,
Unnoticed and unforgiving
It was I who killed her
I was there that night
In her hunger and poverty
As she wrote those words
The words, her suicide note

My hands carry no shackles
But in shackles my conscience
I was there on that bridge
As she flew into her own space
With angels and her bridal dress
In warmth of the sun and despair

My poetry could not save her
Neither the distance nor the knowledge
Neither you nor the State
Now all in place, for you to see
It was neither the hunger nor poverty
But our indifference and ignorance
How we all killed, one way or another
The notes, in our heads, to examine
This terrible sin of indifference
As the trial begins, as the conscience strikes
Knows it not to rest, knows it not the time!



5 thoughts on “Suicide Note (Final Part): The Trial

  1. Left a comment on the poem on chowk too which you didn’t read I guess.
    Sucides out of poverty and hunger are one of the heart wrenching realities that exist in our society but to which most of us are oblivious like we are to the existing of a conscience in ourselves.
    I salute you for writing on topics that aren’t in vogue or glamorous amongst we all indifferent beings but which ought to be the voice of every sane individual in these times of chaos and distress.
    Well done for being the torch bearer!
    Allah karay zor-e-qalam aur ziada!

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