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Tortured land
When I breathe, I feel guilty
Guilty because she can breathe no more
When I think, I feel guilty
Guilty because she can think no more
When I sit down to eat, I feel guilty
Guilty because she can sit down no more
Because she can eat no more.
Tortured land soaked in blood
Red blood, blood of another Bhutto;
Forces of darkness thirsty for her blood
Drink all you can, drink all month long
Drink till your dark heartÕs content;
With so much evil all around
One could easily die of guilt.
Forces of darkness everywhere
Those who talk about religion the most
Know it the least;
Death worshippers wherever you go
Songs of death they sing
Dances of death they dance;
They eat our young
Venom is what they secrete
Human blood is what they drink.
Living in this theatre of destruction
Drinking from streams of blood
Surrounded by walls of hate
Living in this pool of poison
One might as well die of guilt;
Living in this culture of death
One might as well die of guilt.
Living with hope for long
Hope now dead and buried;
Faces depressed, eyes soaked wherever I go
Miserable, dejected, low and disheartened
No hope, no love, no soul
No joy, no delight, no cheer;
If a hundred sixty million weep all month long
Will hope come back, the sun shine again?
Cry my countrymen — and women
Living on the edge for long, now fallen off the cliff
All pain and no hope, no sleep and no dream.
Daughter of destiny was back
Nerves of steel were back
SheÕs been the PM, not once but twice
SheÕs seen fame and glory
SheÕs been an icon and an idol
SheÕs been a luminary and a leading light;
Daughter of a PM, granddaughter of a PM.
Mother of Bilawal, Bakhtawar and Asifa
A motherÕs life on line, a wifeÕs life at stake
Tortured land your saviour is no more.
How much blood can we drink?
We let our country burn
Helpless, defenceless and friendless
Paralyzed, pinned and powerless
How many more seasons in the abyss?
She was magic, she connected like no other
She won hearts — and minds;
Her own life at stake, her countryÕs future on the edge;
Democracy, moderation, army all under attack;
For democracy, the Champion of Democracy was back;
For moderation, the Face of Moderation was back
Tortured land your saviour is no more.
She had no guns, she had no bombs
She wanted a peaceful transition
From despotism to democracy
From despair to hope
She wanted end to violence
Violence in the name of religion
Violence in the name of God;
Symbol of federation no more.
She wanted no mayhem, no chaos
LetÕs make her happy if only for once
Keep calm, no mayhem no chaos
LetÕs put our act together
LetÕs put our country together.
Cry my countrymen — weep, howl or wail
I have never heard a story more painful than this before;
Full of pain, misery and grief
Sorrow, regret and disbelief
I have never told a story more painful than this before;
Will I be able to think again?
Will I be able to write again?
Will I be able to love again?
Bilawal, Bakhtawar and Asifa cry no more
God loved Benazir more than we did
God wanted her more than we did
With angels our angel now sleeps.
By Dr Farrukh Saleem
12/30/2007
January 8th, 2008 at 4:09 pm
This image alone says it all. Deepluy touching.
January 8th, 2008 at 9:42 pm
Shirazi Bhai
Many thanks for the comment - yes this image was quite powerful
January 10th, 2008 at 2:04 pm
All those who were opposed to her politics could have taken her on politically. They did not have to kill her.
January 11th, 2008 at 11:45 pm
Thanks for posting this.
January 11th, 2008 at 11:48 pm
I have also been writing up on my blog about BB’s assassination. Please, take out time and give your comments.