SREBRENICA


srebrenixca poem

 

 

Poem: Srebrenica

An old mother
Clasped onto the memory
the cornice in the ground
The unmarked grave
As tears roll down her cheeks
As pain holds her clenched
In her breath
Points out
There is my husband
In that grave
In there, my sons
My daughters
Raped and disappeared
They only
In my heart
Not long ago
The terrible tragedy
Struck us and its genocide
The day I grew old

The world
watched in silence
They whispered
As the guns and bullets
Rattled its peace
They talked and talked
But only action
The death kept coming
In this Srebrenica town
As the war raged
It’s verdict and life ravaged
They watched
In silence

Look at these graves
Srebrenica in silence
As you travel
In your pursuit
For evidence and analysis
The biggest grave
The grand epitaph
Upon these institutions
The beacons of light
Their silence hard to break
I grieve for them too
The institutions of the world
Condemned to their graves
I cry for them too…

Asim Khan

Thanks Aisha Ghazi for bringing out an old painful reminder to what happened not long ago and the total collapse of that responsibility and its burden shown by the world and its institutions and when they realized it was simply too late.

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Poem: The Labourer


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With this curved spine,
In journey with this world
The echoes of my soul
the existence and its burden
Hear I all day the whispers
the crunching bones
against each other,
As the very fabric
begins to crumble
I am the labourer,
The powder I have become
the dust and its movement
In celebration my pain,
in celebration my work
far away,
removed from the world,
The blisters upon my feet,
the fingers and its skin,
indistinguishable,
I was born BEAUTIFUL
As look upon my self
indistinguishable,
only the dust
I see, only the scars and its pain
the blackened existence

I am the song of your revolutions
I am the silent whisper
in your thoughts,
Alone,
I carry this weight
upon my shoulders, upon my head
in revolt,
All my body and all its tissues
I am the muse to your movements
I am the beauty you paint,
I am the lectures you deliver
I am that famous painting
that hangs in your galleries
Untouched, unheard, in silence
I am the speeches you deliver
I am the river you speak of
I am the ocean you dive into
All there but me,
I am the exodus you never heard
I am the labourer
somewhere in your dead conscience

I am the labourer
in this world of greed and commerce
the only hope, the only dream
this will end here, my sacrifice
my children will not meet this fate,
upon these roads, I walk
Upon these roads,
i surrender my dignity
in this dust,
i surrender my pride,
Just me, this pain will not travel further
upon my children and their generations
The old promise my father made
Our days is 365 days long and nights
only fleeting moments in capture

I am your labourer,
Each year
you celebrate in your words
with vigor and passion
In your poems,
the emotions and its river
But cold this existence
the death you inflicted
Look me in the eye,
the ghostly eyes
All sponged out,
my youth and its innocence
My days of school
sacrificed in its heat
In protest
my whole existence against me,
with cuts and its bruises, upon my back
hidden away all its pain in its dust
the squalor of my existence and nights
you see me in your farms,
you see in your homes,
you see me upon your roads,
All around you see me
all day and yet in celebration just one.

I am your labouer in all ages
In your streets, an old man and woman
the young in your existence
As you drive past,
Just shadows we are,
Shadows that grow larger and diminish
at their own will
I am in all ages at your disposal
I am the labourer of this world,
But only in this world,
I will let you know
Only in this world you have me
The hereafter is all mine
I know the promise made to me
It’s there in inscription,
It’s there in its voices
I hear the angels with me
By my Creator, By my Creator
The hereafter is all mine.
It’s all mine
The heavens of this Universe and beyond
It’s all mine.
ASIM KHAN

EID POEM


Rewards that arrive,
Upon the arrival of Eid,
As we have gone through
The blessed month and it’s deeds
Forget not, the message
To hep those who are in need
Whatever you can do,
Do something and take a lead
Remember the change is upon us
We will one day be finally freed…

 

In Silence, they Burn- (The Muslims of Rohingya-Myanmar, Burma)


In silence,
We hear,
Our voices,
In silence,
You disappear,
UN and the media
In silence,
We suffer,
Our fates
Wounded together,
In silence,
The world witness

In Myanmar,
The Rohingya Muslims,
In silence,
We cover,
Our wounded and dead
Only to discover,
As the hands that cut
It’s more to come

In silence,
They commit,
The atrocities
In silence,
We observe
Our fasts and fate
Through the shades
 Of the moon

In silence,
We scream
These painful days
As our children are burnt
Our women killed,
Yet you remain,
Indifferent,
The world and its voice,
In silence
Our soul dies

In silence
We have lived,
The Rohingyas,
In Arakan region
Through the years
Of persecution
The discrimination
Systematic and diabolical

In silence
The old history,
Sweeps its carpet
Of what happened,
In Minbya and Mrohaung
As Rakhines killed
The story continues

In silence,
We are no longer
The citizens
The slaves proclaimed
By the state and its apparatus
As our land
Confiscated
And our rights
Denied
The human values
Only in distance,
As we watch
In silence
Towards You

In silence,
We remain,
Our mourning and grief
In silence,
We escape,
From the stench
Scattered
Across our lips
In silence,
We remain,
Our eyes,
The sockets empty
The light gone

In silence,
The World,
As we watch,
The removal of conscience
In silence,
We observe
The death
Of this world
And its institutions
Through the shades
Of the moon….