The Man Born From My Soil

By Arsh Shakil Shaikh

Oh God, I request you to hear my only plea.

As from the dawn of time till dusk of life,

I have never asked you a favour for me.

Hope you remember the man you created from my soil.

The man who breathes my air and drinks from the shower offered by me.

It was all good when he pluck my fruits,

It was okay when he pluck my flowers,

But now he started uprooting the tree.

It was all good when he felt the wind,

It was okay when he soared through it,

But now he is darkening the same air he breaths.

It was all good when he swam in the sea,

It was okay when he sailed in it, 

But now he is fading the blue in me.

It is my first and last request to you, the almighty,

To erode this soil that corrupts where he stays.

So that I can go back to the good olden days,

When there was peace and light, 

A world worthy of your praise.

“I am listening to you, oh my dear.

I know you are suffering,

As I have witnessed all this from the formation,

Thence I too regret upon calling him my finest creation.

But there is really nothing I can do,

As my hands are chained by love,

Love equal for all of you.

All I can say is to not to lose hope,

As I do feel that one day the love in his heart will bloom.”

By Arsh Shakil Shaikh