A Petty Pebble Poem by Muhammad Shanazar

(Written on the sad demise of Haji Khalil my friend)

He was my friend,
Who ever defended my cause,
Spoke he in my favour
With the words of flavor,
He was bold and ever told
The truth in the face,
Resolved he worries of others,
Regarded friends his brothers.

He partook in the drama of life
By moving around the town,
By sharing woes and worries,
Of the troubled beings;
He was humble, and had a heart
Pity packed, mind charged with faith.

He was yet unknown
To the plagues of jealousy and pride:
The scissors that cut bonds
Among fellow beings.

Ah! One day at noon, he was shot thrice
By prevailing Wickedness,
For the deed undone,
In the country where law of forest rules,
And blood bounteously flows
In the streets.

He was victimized
By ears-plod suspicion,
His death shocked no one
But his sons, daughters and friends.
On the day of deed before
The evening fell,
He was entrusted to the Mother Earth,
Where he will sleep undisturbed,
But my heart will ever weep,
Grieve on his death
For the wound his death caused
Will ever remain gaped,
With bleeding ajar lips.

On the next day a news of four lines
Was published in some local Dailies,
Too tiny to find among the contents,
Then silence prevailed,
And no one talked anymore,
His demise disturbed a little
The rural environ as if someone
Threw a petty pebble
Into the ocean of time.