I went up the twisted stairs
To reach the bright ledges of the minaret,
Looking around for miles
At recessed hills,
Green fields and bubbling rills.
Underneath the cool, marble-slabbed floors,
In hidden pools
And cisterns
A whole subterranean stream
Flows
Like the centuries
That have flowed by,
Echoing the quiet lament
Of the waters
Remembering
When they were tinged blood red
By the massacre of helpless innocents,
Harmless generations
Who quietly tilled the land
Until
Oppression could not be borne,
Anymore,
And death seemed the only
Honourable course.
———————-
Note: The beautiful and scenic old Ilyasi Mosque, at Nawanshehr in NWFP, Pakistan, was the location of a massacre of poor peasants in the 19th century.
About the Poet
Ayesha K Sadozai belongs to an old Afghan family settled in India and Pakistan. She was born and educated in Peshawar city and later, in the USA. She is a college teacher now and writes and publishes her poetry, which has strong historical and philosophical elements.
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