Bomb Blasts Poem by Naeem Jakhar

Those who shed blood
And call themselves holy
They don’t see the flood
Erupting from human eye

Arms are raised in alarm
Mourning voices, horrible cries
Hearts tremble which were calm
Someone groans in pain and someone dies

Police, firefighters or volunteers
They can’t avoid the great losses
Among the dead bodies, one who steers
Stops to this or grimly passes

Politicians are to say this or that
Scholars just to ponder
They are to condemn or to chat
No solutions; they simply wonder

But who is the one to console
To one who lost a precious soul?
A mother, father, son or sister
A wife, friend or a daughter

A tumbled house which was built
Through hard-earned wages
Has they any sense of guilt,
Who spoiled the work of ages?

Ah! Nothing comes back again
But only a pinching pain

No religion, no morality
Can allow this brutality

And those who claim
They won the bloody game
In some holy or scared name
Will be cursed by eternal shame.