LAND OF SORROW AND HOPE

On the other side, where shadows hide,
Time dances on, and night does bide,
The sky sheds its dim attire with grace,
Morning's light in a serene embrace.

But here, where I reside, life's somber shroud,
Constantly draped in sorrow, we're endowed,
To mourn the toil of my dear homeland's plight,
A journey through time, in the darkest night.

Within my room, the hanging clock, it's still,
A symbol of the dreams our hearts instill,
Not just mine, but every clock is broke,
In this land where prayers and tears evoke.

My mother speaks of longing, cries aloud,
For an elixir to heal the somber crowd,
We've had enough of pain, of endless woe,
In this sacred land where sorrows grow.

We slumber, wake to bombs' relentless sound,
In evening's glow, the day is tightly wound,
The sky painted red with martyrs' noble blood,
Here, death keeps watch, in a cloak it's clad.

Yet onward we stride, to hope and freedom's call,
Over shattered glass, where our dreams did fall,
We tread on stones, once walls of tales untold,
Carrying secrets and stories, brave and bold.

We walk to the cries of children's plea,
And mothers' groans, echoing endlessly,
In this land of courage, where strength prevails,
Our hearts aflame, as freedom's tale unveils.

Imran Nazeer
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