thoughts – original poem

As some of you know, there was recently a shooting in Peshawar inside of a Mosque. The news is tragic, but someone recorded footage of the entire incident on their phone. It was almost impossible to watch; it’s the kind of pain that digs deep into your skin. I really wish this sort of violence would stop. It’s not fair to anyone in such a situation. My heart goes out to them.

I sit in a Mosque, my hands held high
Praying to God that I could live another night;
That I don’t become a ghost or a memory forgotten,
That five years from now my skin won’t have become rotten.
Because in such a place of peace can still be infiltrated by hate.
Ratatatatat; caught in a surreal state.
The carpets are stained, blood on the window panes;
A bullet doesn’t touch me, so how can I still feel pain?
And yet God has covered me in a blanket;
I can go home to my family, not home in a casket.

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