All my memories
are of your desperate cries,
which are still roaming
across my burdened heart,
and knocking,
in my troubled mind.

Those of your desolate cries;
those of your heartbreaking sighs,
and those little drops of tears
which were uncontrollably falling
from those gushing eyes,
across your pale face.

Your screaming still echoes
in my ears,
as I put my hands on my ears.
I can’t escape them;
not even a moment.
Your helpless look
breaks me into pieces.
I curse myself every time,
I remember that moment.
Especially the moment,
when you were
screaming for help,
but I couldn’t help.

Those have become
a part of my life now;
they have turned into
a disturbing traumas,
which I can never escape.
No matter how hard I try,
or how hardly do i pretend
that nothing happened to me
at all.

I thought,
I could survive and live;
yet, I never survived.
I was wrong;
I could only survive
the bullets,
but I could never survive
these troubling traumas
that make me live and die,
in every single beat of breath, I take.

Your begging cries;
those desperate cries
with heartbreaking screaming,
still echo in my troubled ears;
every time I close my eyes.

But you know,
i have kept a ribbon with me
as your last memory –
untied from your gory hair.
I keep it with me well;
I keep it to remember …you.

You know…..,
when I feel too lonely,
I take it out from my knapsack,
and then silently cry unto you;
hiding my tears from the praying
eyes of the word.
when I feel like,
I carry the weight of
the entire universe
on my exhausted shoulders.

The amount of pain is heavy;
it’s so heavy
that persistently ruins
my health condition.
Those around me,
don’t like me too anymore
for my endless complains
about my health condition.
But it’s okay…..
I will run as long,
I could,
I feel more excited;
more relieved,
to meet you again.
Somewhere far,
so far,
where no one can harm use
By: Abdul Samad Haidari
(13/08/2018 – 12:00 AM).

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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