Faruk Ahmed Roni Poet Free verse

Sleepless Mother

A child sleeps like a fragile blossom
nestled in her mother’s arms,
soft breaths humming lullabies
to a world shattered by silence and fear,
But dawn is a thief.
The mother wakes to emptiness,
her hand grasping nothing but a shadow,
her daughter’s head severed like a fallen star
plucked from the sky of her dreams.

Far beyond, in glass towers veiled by smoke,
Men sharpen knives in hushed silence
political thugs draped in power,
their hearts ironclad, unyielding,
while rivers of blood flow cold beneath their feet.
The sky filled with cruel fireworks,
explosions of pain, a deadly spectacle for those
who love war’s theatre,
seated before glowing screens,
sipping wealth’s poisoned wine.

War is an endless storm
of cracked earth and broken souls,
where bombs bloom like poisonous flowers,
and hope withers, crushed in ash and dust.
The streets echo with ghosts
the ordinary, forgotten mothers
cradling only silence, fathers clutching shattered hands,
children falling like wilted petals,
never tasting the dawn’s gentle light.

To the rulers, blood is just currency,
a ledger entry, a faceless statistic.
But for those who live it,
It is fire and flood, grief carved deep into flesh,
the slow drowning of humanity’s light.
And the world, that turns its face away,
deaf to the cries that spill like rivers
through cracked walls, letting cruelty sow terror
in the garden of innocence.

When did love become a stranger?
When did a mother’s heartbeat
become just another casualty,
Lost in the endless war of shadows and steel?
This war is a silent assassin of dreams,
where the true victims are never counted,
only mourned in broken murmurs,
in sleepless nights
where no blossom sleeps safely anymore.

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