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Bushra fears the divisive and communal world her grandson would inherit in this poem, for Different Truths.
In a world torn asunder
With hate, prejudice, and conflict
I gasp as I struggle to breathe
As vicious fumes of toxicity
Threaten to pollute
The air of normalcy
My eyes mist as I look at my babe
My newborn grandson, barely a month old
I run my hand over his head
Not quite rounded properly
Birthing stress, they had said
I gingerly touch the skin pulsing at the top
Wait a while, they had said
All will be fine.
But I worry, not for those reasons
I worry, ‘coz in this communally entrenched country
My grandson is born a Muslim
One day, he too will wear a cap
A skullcap
White
Crocheted
I freeze…
©Bushra Alvi Razzack
Photos by the poet
#Poem #Verse #Child #Muslim #Country #Priviledge #StruggleWithBreathing #SkullCap #DifferentTruths
