THIS EID TOO PASSED IN ISOLATION!

====================================
Right in these very same days;
right in those very old days;
when we were all at home –
sitting around the lap of
that old but blissful
“Dastar Khan”.

It was indeed
the most beautiful festival,
and the happiest Eid,
I have ever celebrated,
after we are parted.

Parted and far away,
away too far now;
far from our hometown;
far from our own people;
far from our those lively
and joyful streets
where we would freely run
and embrace each other
with warmest smile.

Do you know?
I have even forgotten
the taste of
my favorite food now
that i had back in my home
in the occasion of Eid.

I wake up too late today,
just like a normal day;
for I have no one here.

My mother is too far now
to put Hana in my hands
and iron my finest clothes
to wear in early morning
by giving me a warm kiss
on the forehead.

Now all I have to do is:
to struggle to remain alive,
I have only learnt to escape,
escape even from my pride,
I have only learnt to wander;
wander lonely across
these tall buildings
by putting my own fingers
in my own wounds.

Across these tall buildings,
yet, with no space for me;
and across these unfamiliar streets
where it’s too crowded with humans
yet, seem completely empty!

I feel, as if,
the entire world is empty;
empty from joy and happiness,
and you know?
freedom scares here.

I feel too lonely;
I am lost in
an unknown desert,
where I only count
every seconds now
to attend my funeral
on exile.

Because, they say,
“even I have no rights;
not even the right to hope,
the right to living too
now scares here.

In fact,
they have made me fear;
fear even from my own shadow;
I feel as if tomorrow
will be another black day
on my calendar;
filled with suffering
and miseries only.

I feel like,
another year awaits me,
and its full of shed tears
with more fallen dreams.

Smile has fled
from my face now,
and tears have replaced well.

Perhaps,
as I sit to write now;
tears stream down
from across my cheeks,
and like an idiot,
I still pretend
to be happy.

As I stop and reflect back
in this scary silence
of uttermost loneliness;
I wonder,
am I really a human?
do I also like you
have certain rights
and freedom?
If yes,
then why are they absent?
and why have they taken them
away from me?

But you see,
I still move on;
I move on as long
as this wingless breathe
beats in my grieving chest;
and as long as,
this little remaining strength
in me left to assist me to run,
but I don’t know where to go
if I still run!

Please don’t forget
the desperate refugees
in your glad matins;
for we need your human love
more than your judgment;
and your divine compassion,
more than your majestic denial!
==========================
By: Abdul Samad Haidari
(13/06/2018 – 07:37 PM).

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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