I write this poem about a deadly bomb blast in which about 100 people have been killed and more than 300 people were critically wounded.
I bleed and I hardly bleed
for my country in fire,
where cowards daily kill
by bomb last and gunfire.

Today my beloved homeland
hardly bleeds,
my heart silently cries
for its bleeding streets.

Blood is streaming
across its streets and homes,
scattered with fleshes of humans
and broken bones.

The dead bodies are everywhere
steeped in blood,
most of them are children
and women fallen in wrath.

Some are holding in blood
their amputated hands
while others are stumbling
in flame as the fire burns.

Some have fallen down
lay dead hardly bleeding,
others are screaming in pain
as long as they are breathing.

Some are screaming and rolling
as the explosion breaks,
others writhe roasting in its fire
and flame like steaks.

Children are steeped in blood
screaming for rescue aloud
mothers are wounded –
rolling and groaning on the
dead bodies of their beloved.

Some are adults and youngsters
recently engaged,
and others are fathers and mothers tonight to be engraved.

All of them were steeped
 in cold blood by those devils
solely belonged to our human race,
this is what I have closely seen myself
on their innocent faces.

Some are killed by terrorists
and devils in their homes,
while others flee them in search of safety seasonally die in the heart of bottomless jungles and horrifying seas.

Its my beloved country
today under a life taking fire,
I bleed while sitting to write
about its daily miseries
and losses of lives
that makes me beg for a permanent
and peaceful ceasefire.
By: Abdul Samad Haidari

About samad1986

Abdul Samad Haidari is a poet, writer, teacher and a former freelance journalist, currently residing in Indonesia as a stateless refugee. He is the author of The Red Ribbon He fled his home country at the age of seven and grew up wandering in Pakistan and Iran as a child refugee, and was separated from his family for the majority of his childhood. For two years, at the age of eight and nine, he was forced into child labour in the construction industry in Iran. In contrast, Pakistan offered refugees like him the opportunity to study and work. This education and work experience culminated in Abdul teaching computer studies and English language courses at the Intel Computer Center and Pak Oxford Professionals. After the collapse of the Taliban government, Abdul returned to Afghanistan thinking that the security situation had improved, and that he could take part in the reconstruction of his war-torn country. With this in mind, Abdul served as a freelance journalist and humanitarian aid-worker in areas of the country that remained dangerous to civilians because of the influence of terrorist groups. Abdul served with the Norwegian refugee council (NRC), ActionAid Afghanistan, Daily Outlook Afghanistan group of newspapers, and The Daily Afghanistan Express. As a freelance journalist, Abdul wrote articles and editorials about on-the-ground realities, which were then circulated widely. These had a particular focus on women and children’s rights, corruption, transparency and accountability in government, warlords and terrorist groups’ actions and the systematic persecution of minority groups in both Afghanistan and Pakistan.
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