Pangs of the Motherland

by Shahida Latif

Oh! Almighty, Omniscient, Omnipotent God,
The Maker of all scheme of the universe,
What wrongs blunderingly we have done,
Which evoked the waves of mighty wrath,
Only one shake, quake made us all helpless,
And broke, crush the unyielding crests of pride.

These deeds were ours or the ruling statues,
Devoid of fear who supported your enemies,
And whose minds were paralyzed to estimate,
Your powers and favours possessed for them.

Whose blind deeds the earth shook off,
From its back, indifferent to the holocaust,
Its quakes made ravaging the lush crop of life,
Or these enormous bloody jerks and jolts,
Were the tests of our stock of endurance?

Whatever the motive is, You know much better,
But the poetic eyes have seen the spectrum,
Of unprecedented, unassessable extensive loss
In the entire human plighted plagued history.

The thriving slopes of valleys, the peaks of hills
And mountains where the corn of life swayed,
In ecstasy like an amphitheatre of mustard,
That announces heralding the arrival of Spring,
On the plains of Punjab whose rivers take birth,
From the plighted overshaken slopes and peaks,
Where from the structure of life tumbled down.

The houses, the cottages: the debris of dreams,
Lay shattered upon the shroudless indwellers,
And some cried helplessly seeing the ballet,
Of death in front, wait appalled to be retrampled.

Ah! Who are these who play the bestial sports,
By plundering and pillaging the exposed limbs,
Beastly chopping for bangles and rings of gold.
How Man fell from culminating, sublime heights,
To the abysmal depths of butchery, bloodshed.
To pollute, smear the fair earth, daubing all red.

Ah! On thousands of acres the numerous rallies,
Of cherished dreams walk bare bleeding sore feet,
And knock aloud at the each fallen shattered door
Of the silence yards where the sapling lie buried,
Clenching the toys with their unpulsating breasts.

All poetic diction, similes and metaphors together,
Can not narrate, describe and circumvent the bulk,
Dimension and magnitude of the crushing infliction;
O! Eyes, then weep, weep and weep till all stock,
Of the reserved tears is drained, till blood spouts,
Spurts and squirts out from the sockets of brain.

Oh! My nation the role, the courage you displayed,
Are commendable, matchless, and unprecedented,
Oh! My defenders be alert, vigilant and watchful,
Not only you defend the boundaries, its spheres,
But also guard underneath the subterranean layers,
Of the motherland heralding encroaching dangers.

Shahida Latif

Shahida Latif's picture

Hi! I am Shahida Latif from Pakistan, I am the author of many books of Urdu poetry and one novel Saath Ishq "Seven Love Legends". In my poetic career I made several tours abroad and participated in seminars and poetry reading sessions, during the international tours I was asked by the literary figures to write in English as well, so I wrote my first poetry book in English, titled "Drop The Weapons", consisting of 70 poems. The book will be soon brought out, before the month of August 2011. I have been appreciated a lot by the readers. I hate bloodshed in the world, when any one is killed in war or in any conflict my heart weeps, I through my poetry want to give the message to humanity to end war and it is the easiest to do so, just drop the weapons, enlarge your zones of acceptance, consider all men and women are children of the same parents; we can make the world more and more beautiful with love and patience and by preferring others interests to ours. It is the only way to maintain peace in the world, open your eyes and minds lest it should be too late. Love and peace for all.Shahida Latif

Last updated June 26, 2011