Muzzafrabad

#3 Muzzafrabad; My Home

Mountains touching the heavens,

Apparel as vivid as the rainbow,

Each neighbor like kin,

Crowded, together, alive,

The town I was born in.

They tell me you are polluted and I know it, for I have breathed in your air and seen your people toil.

They tell me you are corrupt and I answer, I know, for I have seen your men leading awry. They say you are brutal and I reply yes, for I have heard the howls of the innocent.

They tell me you are cruel And I reply again, I know, for I have witnessed the abrupt passing of healthy people. I have seen the homeless laying hopelessly in rubble-filled streets.

So having responded to their taunts I glare at those that protest my town, and I oppose them.

Come and see what lies beneath the silhouettes of corruption, the family that is close, the strangers who help the poor.

Come and listen to the stories told by the elders to the adolescent. Come, feel the bond that ties are so strong.

Tall and rough, it withstands the wind.

Cunning yet motherly,

patriotic and homely,

under all the dust, the laughter of children echoes around, through many tragedies, despite many battles,

it still, even today stands as one,

Strong and proud

my city,

My home.