Lost Childhood

3 Min Read

Anna Maria

If I asked you the definition of pain

What would you answer, human?

You could put together thousands of words,

And construct a sentence 

Or you could just remain numb,

While your dark brown eyes would exhibit their agony.

Agony, I repeat;

What agony, what trauma and what dystopia?

You might have smiled, 

Quite in a strangely subdued manner.

I would have immensely wondered;

What was that vague smile all about?

Which lost its life before being veridical? 

Within that time your tears would flow,

Through your vacant face;

Ready to tell your story of utter distress

Days you are passing with that heavy sadness.

You would begin to unravel,

The raw and gloomy chapter of your life

Expose your deepest throes and

Dear, I would have listened, with all I had.

You could begin to tell how you lost your precious ones,

On that very dark night of 25th March.

You could begin to tell how your father was murdered,

Your mother was brutally kidnapped and never found 

The home which always resides in your heart,

Was tarnished in the hands of Pakistani armies.

The violence, melancholy, desolation.

You might have stopped then,

couldn’t bear anymore to tell and reminisce your past. 


I would have felt the hatred too for those morons,

for destroying your family; your only temple of love,

For ruining your childhood that night.

The six-year-old you, hiding behind that enormous door,

The only living proof of that revolting night,

What pangs of distress was the child going through?

I would have told you then,

”You are a fighter.

You sacrificed your golden childhood

for your country,

And in return it brought freedom,

To the thousands of families in your motherland.

Your holy sacrifice is one of the reasons,

bringing so many families together

And now this land is your mother,

These people of your nation 

Are your family.

After all these years,

You could have finally felt relieved.

But destiny took you to the stars

Distant in space, all grieved.

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