Tuesday, October 16, 2012

Rebellion resurrected..

Firing for peace
is like fucking for virginity.

    Blood drips from the pages 

    that taught to stand up.
    Facepalmed and supine -
    their backbones ached.

All are me and me is all
graffitied over the echoing valley.
Fired still -
and with each shot - rebellion.

     Awaited new mornings -
     in birdless silences.
     Perhaps within,
     promising peace.

Veils shred
voices vent
shrill ambition
in unison.

     Somewhere below a Pearl smiles
     from the ashes a Saleem salutes.

 I was Malala
Malala is me....