Echoes of a 'Naya Pakistan'
My child died in my arms last night, and I stood thanking you for the promised medicine that never came.
You burnt my house, but I stood still and said nothing,
You raped my sister and murdered my brothers, but my lips remained numb,
You starved my family, slowly and painfully, but I stayed silent.
Bullets were my grain and blood my water, it was the way, and I followed you mutely,
You built golden palaces upon bones and ashes, and I laboured away for you,
I watched my father die, cut by cut, his honesty reducing him to a beggar, but I said nothing.
My son was shot last night; his blood still flows on broken streets, but I remained silent,
I watched as you reveled in the chaos of broken lives, but I said nothing,
My child died in my arms last night, and I stood thanking you, for the promised medicine that never came.
I watched my city bleed, but I said nothing,
The lights disappeared and the love turned into hate, but I stood by and said nothing,
You commanded me to kill my brother, not one, but all four, and I obeyed.
My youth disappeared in the blink of an eye and you threw me on the streets, but I stayed silent,
I let you turn my mind against myself, because you were right, I was nothing,
But there is something in the air today that is more than nothing.
It is a queer buzz that cannot be explained,
It is a fire that does not burn, passion that does not rage, loyalty that does not kill,
It is a pulse that cuts through each of us, but it is one,
It is the heartbeat of a nation that bled itself dry, but throbbed quietly on still.