A Poem for the Exiles
Mrs. Shaista Habib, Lahore

Despite his affection,

seeking to live under the protective care,

of an avowed enemy, is to me,

sacriligious.

I hate living in stranger lands.

I like the tender warmth of my house,

from the cosy comfort of which,

you have thrown me into exile.

See!

I am without shelter,

bare, exposed in the hostile alien lands,

I am devoured by the freezing cold

of winter season.

Let me come back,

to the kind, caring walls of my home.

I am a part of you;

give me the piece of lands, that is mine,

that I may rest my feet, on it. My feet

which are weary of treading the hard, burning soils

of alien lands.

I am tired,

My feet can no longer carry me,

they are falling like the withered autumn leaves.

My soil so rich and fertile,

give me a piece of it,

that i may grow roses in it,

and see them blossom.

I am thirsty for water from earthen pitcher,

which i want to drink in the moonlit nights.

Alas! I have been plucking thorns for so long,

from foreign soils to my homeland, 

that I now yearn for

the arms of my peoples to garland me.

< Go Back >