Author: Sarah Usmani

I’m a war child.
That’s right a war child,
Just because the media makes believe that for myself I can’t speak,
Don’t pretend like you can’t hear me,
Don’t make me repeat my misery,
I’m a war child,
Yeah you heard me,
A war child.

Because of the soldiers’ machine gun playing my loud nightly lullaby,
I may not sleep at night,
But I tell you I dream,
I dream with my eyes open wide.
I dream that if tonight with God’s might I may survive,
Tomorrow I’ll look for a safer place for my siblings to hide.

You see I’m the oldest and I’m nine.
And well the youngest, she’s two,
A little too busy to have any trouble on her little mind.

Because for her the red paint,
The teary eyes,
And the loud noises,
Are all just a little punishment for the naughty kids who refuse to sleep at night.
This for her is normal life,
The life she believes all two year olds live world wide.
The life of a war child.

I’ve heard of children being bullied,
For being too fat or too skinny.
But that doesn’t happen in this town of peace,
Here, all children play in unity.
They play games that won’t lead to brain washing or all those other controversies,
Rather they get together at day time to compare who collected the most treats,
Small, big, few or many purple blue treats,
Stamped on their bodies and skins that burn in the scorching heat,
Dry, blue and flaky.
They all also have skinny limbs and inflated bellies,
Not because their parents fed them with goodies,
But because they suffer from all sorts of deficiencies.

This is bravery,
The bravery failed to be demonstrated by all these apparent peace making authorities.
Welcome to reality.
The reality you’ll never see on T.V.,
Or hear of in the speeches of presidents from the most powerful countries.

The presidents who sleep in their cosy beds,
And enjoy the comfort of various electrical facilities.

You see when the sun goes down in this town,
Explosions and screams are the only audible sound,
And the only light we see,
Is that of burning tires and bodies.

And there you are complaining about a power failure that lasted an hour or three.
I guess it’s only fair,
Since I deserve no rights or freedom being a citizen of a third world country.

The country with a high rate of infant casualties,
And escalating child labor rate speaking statistically.
Here the worst news for a family could be that of a pregnancy,
This child if born, would be abused,
Mentally,
Physically,
And sexually,
Regardless of its gender, strength, and capabilities.
This child will be orphaned sooner or later,
He’ll work for companies and factories as a toddler,
To provide his dying loved ones with bread and water,
And if he dares to speak,
He’ll be labeled as a traitor,
And get sent off to prison later.

But hey, don’t worry,
Don’t bother helping me,
Don’t make use of your freedom of speech.
You’ve got your shiny cars and money,
Why care about me?
I’m just a war child,
On me don’t waste your time,
I’ll be just fine.

Amidst the orderly lines I’m here
Small voices
Multiple conversations
And I’m here
In unison
But maybe by comparison
I’m stuck
Dumbstruck
Maybe just trying to deny
Maybe just trying to hide
These tears in my eyes
Because it can’t make sense to you
For me to cry
What is it inside?
And the gears start turning and churning
Rotating without breaking
And I can no longer deny
The love I’ve been given
A chance for forgiveness
And I’m only transparent to Him



Author: Rida Khan

It’s true about life that it is short and tough,
there’s times of ease and times that are rough.
Don’t fall into this trap because you will get stuck
then nothing can help you escape; not fame nor chance nor luck.

…Life is full of greed, anger, and mistrust,
betrayal and denial of the truth is a result of this lust.
It is the bitter truth that you need to understand,
that life as you know it, will soon come to an end.
Glamor, luxuries, and the “American Dream” are all ways to keep you occupied,
so that materialism can continue to spread far and wide.

Life is really just a touch to the soul,
a spiritual existence for physical control,
an energy for the body to function,
a shield of emotions and feelings that covers the heart,
and a process of thinking within the mind.
Just remember, it may be prominent, but it’s not permanent,
and once it is gone, it will be nothing but history.

The reality of life is that it is nothing but
an illusion, a delusion and seclusion;
it’s isolation, confusion, and deception;
and nothing more than misconception or hallucination.

And if you have been trapped, deceived, confused, or deluded,
there is no known cure nor resolution concluded,
in any book,
except what God has revealed.

So open your ears, eyes, mind and heart,
and re-frame yourself and restart, because
if you got up this morning, healthy and ready to shine,
you have been given, yet another chance, for yourself to redesign,

And be thankful for this gift, for not everyone is blessed with it.

By: Sarah Usmani, picture courtesy of Yasmine Youssef

Just a few centuries ago,
Fire, Water, Air, and Earth were all pure.
Fire, once the only source of heat,
Is now flaming from burning body heaps.
Water, once the nourishing source,
Now gushes from pipes drowning corpse after corpse.
Air, once the pure and clear source of life,
Now intoxicates, and wounds deeper than a knife.
And Earth, that once provided a ground to walk on,
Is now drastically bombed on.
How did the elements of life turn into elements of fear?
Who brought them here?
We did.
We used the air that prevented our lungs from collapsing, as a medium for poisoning.
We used the fire that prevented us from shivering, as a medium for demolishing.
We used the water that prevented us from wilting, as a medium for internal deformation.
And finally, we destroyed the Earth, the Earth that provided the sand grains for our creation.
Yes we, the humans, the wisest of all creation.
Then why weep when the elements turn against us?
Earthquakes, forest fires, floods and hurricanes,
Aren’t they all well deserved?
Justice is what we should fear,
The thought of nature’s Justice should bring down fountains of tears,
Because true Justice is what nature hasn’t endorsed yet.
Imagine.
If there was an earthquake for every time we littered the Earth,
If there was a flood for every toxin we dumped into the oceans,
If there was a hurricane for every fume released from a factory’s chimney,
If there was a bigger fire in turn for every explosion,
Where would we be now?
Would we exist?
These man-made disasters cannot be compared to those of nature.
So don’t cry, because this time isn’t the worst.
Quench that cigarette in your hands,
Eliminate your waste,
Discontinue your evil plans,
Because nature hasn’t yet showed you its own plans.

My name is Sarah,
And I was born in Pakistan,
But since unemployment rates were sky high,
My family and I flew away when I was nine.

Now 19, the country that I proudly call mine is 63 years old with a crucial leak in its main plumb line,
But since corrupt politicians make the basis of my country’s spine,
And on the world map, being anywhere but the west is just not fine,
Most multinationals have decided to decline,
The help that they are surely capable to provide.

But from my duty I refuse to resign,
So here I am with a world plan I have devised,
Hoping that most of you will listen,
So the oppressed 14 million may survive.

Now imagine,
Imagine the roofs of your homes torn off from above your heads.

A situation where agony is neck high,
And in a flood of pain you are drenched wet.

Imagine looking to your left and right and finding floating bodies of loved ones who are now dead.

And if that wasn’t enough,
Can you imagine not being able to find the smallest piece of dry land,
to bury your deceased friends?
So you’re forced to walk away,
Because the next wave of flood,
You might not withstand.

Now imagine having to swim over your now flooded farmland,
Knowing that to put bread on table,
You will now have to make new plans all over again.
All your year’s work washed away in a few minutes time span.

Now picture a queue of sick and hungry children, women and men,
Waiting cautiously to hear the noise of the aid helicopter’s fans.

And once the noise is heard and that daily flying machine of hope is seen,
The rush begins.

Little orphaned feet are caught up in a stampede,
Widowed women fight to save their infants struck by a terminal disease,
And burdened fathers fight to get a bite to eat.

Where are my people?
Where are my friends?
Is there anyone out there willing to give me a hand?

These are the thoughts of the 14 million people drowning in pain,
So don’t just sit there and watch in vain.

Seven seas away they sit and wait,
Wondering why everyone’s asleep,
To wake you up, how long will it take?

Nothing’s getting better,
They keep sinking deeper and deeper,
And whose door should they knock on if not yours?
Their president’s not even home.

Where are my people?
Where are my friends?
Is there anyone out there willing to give me a hand?

Now I know that your name and country might not be the same as mine,
But I also know that unlike most multinationals, you have a heart deep down inside.

So help those whose world has turned upside down,
So give them a little more than just a frown.

A little more love,
A little more care,
Show them they’re not alone,
Prove to them you still care.

What are you waiting for?
What is that you fear?
Why do you keep pretending that their screams you can’t hear?
Are you waiting for the ones still alive to drown in their own tears?

They are your people,
They are your friends,
So to lift them up from their suffering, won’t you please give them a hand?