My own imagination is making me blind,
Oh! I am lost in the midst of my mind.
Now from every nerve drips blood without any restraint,
I am tired… do me a favour of being healer of my pain.
Oh life! it is very unbecoming of your pathless destination,
You grow thorns on my road, and make me suffer from every tribulation.
This cruel time is now odious to my soul and intolerable to my eyes,
I am lamenting, screaming just giving vent to my sighs.
It is not the pain of unrequited love nor it is the pain of any wound,
It is the pain so deep that I cannot give it any sound (or name).
It is the pain of time that rips every man of his beauty,
It is the pain of time, which destroys everything and that is its only duty.
It is the pain of the world, which for me is like a land of dreams,
But ill-luckily it is the pain of this world which lacks joy, love, light and serenity that once flowed through its streams.
It is the pain caused by the abundant expectations,
It is the pain caused by so long separations.
It is the pain of hoping against hope,
It is pain of stretching heart’s fragile rope.
It is the pain! yes pain of existing on this earth,
Where complaint is mother tongue and no one is feeling any mirth.
It is the pain of painful existence,
It is the pain of living afar from your presence.
It is the pain of a mother whose son is living in the country so far,
It is the pain of a son who looks for his valley which is caught in a war.
It is the pain of beloved whose lover is fighting with his mind,
It is the pain of a lover who deceived his beloved who was so very kind.
It is the pain of the poor who quarrel for a single morsel,
It is the pain of the rich who struggles for the power and becomes a tyrant devil.
It is the pain of voice, which is muted by the power so brute,
It is the pain of eyes, which are blinded by the arrow so crude.
It is the pain of a couple who longs for a baby,
It is the pain of parents whose son/daughter makes their life so much shabby.
It is the pain of shadow that prays for light,
It is the pain of spark that burns the very soothing site.
It is the pain of conscience which pricks and shows the true reflection,
It is the pain of that dark heart which lacks that warmth and affection.
It is the pain of pricks and scars no one can feel,
It is the pain of highs and lows that are tiresome to deal.
It is the pain of you and me born as humans instead of birds,
It is the pain of you and me dying out of pricks from these unseen swords…
This poem is written by Aatiba, I have published it on her behalf as she is not able to upload it from Kashmir due to internet blockade.