Bolan Pass by Hafeez ur Rehman SignUp
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Theme: Loss Share This Page
Bolan Pass
by Hafeez ur Rehman
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Bolan Pass.jpg
 
Frozen fingers
hold a boiled
egg for sale.
 
Snow-capped hills
spread hunger
and a dying sense of freedom.
 
When the liberator returned
after waging a war with himself,
gun shots ripped the sky and broke
a dozen years of silence.
 
Everybody wants a share of the pulpit,
fundamental rights outnumber duties.
Inquisitors are blind and tongue-tied,
even gods are playing truant.
 
In this rush of bewilderment
a hand with frost-bitten fingers
and an egg rises.
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Image © Hafeez ur Rehman

November 15, 2013
More By: Hafeez ur Rehman
Views: 955      Comments: 1

Comments on this Poem

Comment Superb!

TagoreBlog
11/30/2013 17:45 PM




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