A lone dead star,
darker than the darkest
Stood guard in a pale wintry
While evil slipped in after scaling the walls
Before turning the masjid of little angels
Into crimson and gore.
The buds before they could blossom
Were plucked and snuffed
While the red stains mosaiced the floor.
Things that they learnt; and foremost among them all, to ask 'why'
didn't slip out as fear
curdled their words and blood splattered the walls.
While you lie gored Peshawar,
We will rise for your daughters and sons
And wipe your frozen tear...
And ask their questions imbrued and aborted.
'Allah' the almighty, would you allow your Jihad to be built on the blood of Cherubs and Seraphs?
Has anybody ever won such a war?
And their kingdoms lasted?
One more time, would you give us? just a last time?
To be snuggled in your bosom Peshawar?