Haunted

Thanks to the soft bed I sleep on.
To the roof above.
For I don’t have to worry if I will have another meal tomorrow.
Will I be alive tomorrow?

They say we should pray for the war in a far away land.
I say praying is what us got us here.
Religion plus power in the wrong arms has driven people insane.
Where they would rejoice over the bodies on the streets.
Where they would satisfy their animal lust with anything which has a hole.

Religion scares me today.
Like it should.
A couple came to my house and asked me to convert.
They didn’t know that I converted long ago.
To a better human being.
A one who doesn’t let outdated customs and rituals cloud my judgement over another person’s God and their belief.
Maybe the man who spoke to me about the right path will also sleep peacefully.
Thinking that his job for that day was done in the eyes of his unseen God.
Why must one have to chose a belief?
Why must countries who admittedly know their role in the war shy away from accepting the people it has helped displaced?
Thank the life we have because we don’t know what it is like to look in the eyes of your child,
And wish that his death be less painful.
Death is anyways all around them waiting for its next victim.
Knowing that the forces coming closer will set them free, free from this land which they used to call home.
The final words haunt me.
Rob me of my sleep.
It’s 2am.
And all I can do a million miles away is weep at what kind of world my son is waking up to.
But I am thankful that he will awake at least, to the sound of rain on our windows instead of bombs closing in.
Peace unto thee

Khushnuma

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