Some mornings I stand in the metro, or sit in an auto or bus, and consider my breath or the wind– or the beautiful faces of strangers. Some days, I pray for my parents, some days for Umar Khalid– imprisoned because he refused to put profit before love and freedom. Did you hear about Junaid and Nasir? Residents of Ghatmeeka, found dead in their car last week– burned alive, burned alive, burned alive.Comments closed
Poems about the dark times.