It was a bright and very beautiful day,
when the kids of Peshawar made their way,
to their school, carrying their bags,
big and heavy on their backs.
On the sixteenth of December, in the bitter cold,
wearing hats and gloves, looking at their parents they told,
"I don't want to go", some persuaded,
others were used to it, for the bus they waited.
"It's gonna be fun, you'll enjoy",
His mother assured, and kissed her boy.
Looking at her son, feeling proud,
waving as he faded into the crowd.
Little did she know, it was her last gaze,
her last moment with her son, or his last phase.
The Peshawar attack..
It all started when a couple of armed men showed,
frightening the kids, with their guns which they load.
Killing mercilessly, every innocent kid,
ignoring the fact that their faces weren't hid.
As they say "Allahu Akbar", and shooting,
accepting it my mind keeps refusing.
They went and never came back...
for their loss there's no pay back..
Just for you to know..
You can crush the flowers
but can't stop the spring,
you can posses all the powers,
but you can't over-power the king.
You can destroy the nation,
but you can't destroy Islam,
you can destroy the foundation,
but definitely not our Iman.
May the souls of the victims rest in peace.
YOU ARE READING
The Peshawar Attack
PoetryI still remember that day like it was yesterday. I was scrolling through my facebook feed when I stumbled upon the news. I didn't know much about it, so I googled, read a few articles and was literally drowning in tears. I remember imagining being...
