Blowing Bones. . .

Going through my old diary, I found this poem written and left some 5 years ago..here it is unedited as i found it:


Blowing bones
Hollow human bones.
Drinking deep;
from human skull.
I come from the world
where gunpowder airs,
missiles grow; watered by
blood.


Lady liberty holds high her
Torch; the fire extinguished
and the book burns with names
of those who are dying today,
of those who will die tomorrow,
but, no record of those dead.


I don't smoke, but
they say
I smell of gunpowder.
I am a suspect.
Crackdown.
I am being stopped
in Lalchowk, frisked,
asked for identity-
on card. I bear nothing
but my name, is that not enough.
Guns point to me, at my head
at my heart.who am I,
they ask,


Who am I!
I am the son of Adam.
I am Abel,
whose head was struck and
it cracked open like coconut,
liquid roses bloomed out.


I am the child
who weeps blood.
A tank fell in love with my glass-doll.


I am the guy you spotted
in Casbah, arrested in Palestine,
killed in Iraq.


I am the child
you planted inside my
mother's womb; a time-bomb.
when I burst open, you call me
suicide-bomber, terrorrist.
You give me identity, yet
you ask for I-Card.


I am the the poet-singer.
I strike the song; hard and loud.


A crack creeps through her chest.
An icicle of her star-edged-crown
falls, pierces the heart
and things fall apart.


Muzaffar Karim