from the other side of the tracks

Written by: Tamanna Malik


No, i don’t write about pretty skies or beautiful flowers,

for the sky is hardly every visible from my place and flowers do not grow in my backyard.


No, I don’t write about serene mornings at beautiful beaches,

for all one can hear in the clustered lanes of this slum are curses and cries.


No, I don’t write about mothers’ loving touch and protective hugs,

for mine died taking care of you and your mess.


No, I don’t write about home,

for I belong to the other side of the tracks and you don’t have the stomach to read our stories.


No, I don’t write about my dreams either,

for we’re taught to survive and not dream for dreams are the illusions that lead to destruction.


No, I don’t write about anything at all,

for you’ve snatched our ink and quills and you’ve built walls to deny our existence.


No, I don’t write,

for I can not, ‘cause you don’t let me.


And then you ask me, “why don’t you write?”







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