What kind of a world is this O God!

Some people here don't drink wine,

But they don't refrain,

From sucking the blood of other souls.

Some hate gambling, pose as pious,

Yet rob and cheat the simpletons,

Some say they shun adultery,

Yet rape women in their thoughts.

Some still, they preach only peace,

Yet kill in Your Holy Name,

And by destroying their own kind,

On You do they put the blame.

And what of those who lie, backbite,

And those who are their desires' slaves,

Who love to hurt in word and deed,

Whose evil minds are possessed by greed.

Tell me O God, my most kind Lord,

For what cause did You send me here?

Why did You throw me from Above?

Why make me grieve and live in fear?

It is difficult for the heart O God,

To beat in harmony with the soul,

The mind too is a shipwrecked mast,

Devoid of sail, a naked pole.

I struggle to complete my sojourn,

On this so-called Mother Earth,

How I long to be where I once was,

In the realm of love, bliss and mirth!

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Composed on Feb. 17, 2008, in Karachi...Elections in Pakistan on the 18th. Is the poem a reaction to what's rampant around me?

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palewingedpoetess's picture

where the lions are slaughtered
by what they believe to be sheep
there too we must pass through
'Fear Is Not Of Where We Come From'
fear is where you find your mortal
feet firmly tread
lie not in the muck that is the baser
habits of man kind
rather choose to rise in yourself far above
and share your light with those left behind
either by themselves
or the density of their flesh they wonder the
earth through
each man must find his own way
there is no comparison
our souls are out buttoned up
taking a walk
and the earth and all its carnage and debris
are the afternoon stroll through which we must
don't over think others plights too awfully much
live the life you were given
do the best you can
and let life and all its living do their best
as well
when you are able certainly offer a helping hand
but never repeatedly over think the ugliness you
for they are mere storms passing upon your path
as you make your way back home from your afternoon
God is everywhere, even in the ugliest of ugly things
you witness
take sustenance in your just knowing that
and enjoy the afternoon you were given to explore
that Sir Poet is the best advice I can give to fellow
poet with a heart so sore..............
you know who!..........so why type it?