Boshra Writes

Boshra Writes

As a writer of Dystopia, I am disillusioned with war. Mostly because I see its connection to power. War isn’t the only method of power-mongers. Diplomacy is too. When you have power in the hands of those with wrong intentions, words can be just as deceiving as war.  I take refuge in poetry today. Today I hope to bring some meaning to the madness.


The aggressors’ hands


bring down a weeping

of blood

to mar the beauty of wheat-fields


And the sky above

is still a poem

even if the sirens blare

like hellish ghouls,

that consume every quivering atom in the universe


But you say the sky is carved into day and night

and I say you’ve colonized it-

taken the dust and hurdled it into snake dens

and now wonder

why the price of oil

has become the price of our blood


History will count

the grains of rice that you broke

In a power-hungry rage, not fit for fools,

and the starving orphans that 

suffered in the bowels of the giving earth