I am a storm cloud, disguised as sunshine

_____________________________________________

When the scary lightning claw rails

When the trembling thunder howls,

I feel sacred… too scared perhaps.

I wish I could curl myself into a tight ball,

so, I could disappear from space.

When the traumatic screams from inside scowl,

When the lonely nights compose dark thoughts,

It feels like a demon runs in my head.

I feel there’s a black whole inside.

I feel it moves in every last vein,

nerve, and stretching the tissues.

It’s consuming everything;

it’s taking all, but my skin

it disgusts me slowly,

but with pain.

And then,

The mind hangs,

Nose gets cold

Tongue freezes

Eyes get stuck at one specific spot

Fingers are curling like rubber

Feet don’t feel the ground anymore.

I get stuck into space

I can’t even feel my tears

My thoughts are all escaping each other

They are choking me in throat,

blocking my airway.

the pain from the back side of head gets more intensive –

it squeezes as if the head is welting,

and then I fall on the ground with face

like a frozen leaf and when I wake up,

I only wish to die,

begging for a quick and painless death.

Where should I go?

When there is nowhere to go.

Whom to sick refuge?

When everyone rejects,

kicking back like a football.

And yet,

I show a strong face,

a smiling one –

like a fool ‘to’ fool others.

Where should this spirit flee?

When life treats too harsh

When hope is lost without a trace.

Oh mankind,

When my breath gives up,

and the light of life runs low,

Where should I go?

Where should I go?

And, where should I go???

____________________________

Abdul Samad Haidari

(21/07/2019 – 10:21am,

Jakarta, Indonesia).

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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