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Hira Fatima Poem
In scales of steel, the city sleeps
Where dragon laws in darkness creep
The streets are veins of ancient stone
Where freedom's blood has long been flown.
The towers pierce the smoky sky
Like claws that grasps and never die
The people move with careful pace
Under eyes that watch each secret place.
Through gates of fire, the rulers pass
Their shadows cast in endless glass
Where every breath must be confessed
And dreams themselves are put to test.
But deep within the burning core
A spark remains that dares ignore
The chains of law, the weight of might
And whisper still endless light.
Copyright © Hira Fatima | Year Posted 2025
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Hira Fatima Poem
Through shattered glass, I see my past
Reflected fragments of what didn't last
Like ripples on a midnight sea
Each piece reveals a part of me.
The phoenix rises from the deep
Where shadows dance and secrets sleep
With every step, I claim my ground
Between the worlds I've turned around.
In cosmic depths, I find my voice
Where darkness meets the inner choice
To rise above the breaking pain
And turn my scars into wings again.
The mirrors crack, the pieces fall
But in their shards, I hear it all
The whispers of my deepest soul
Guiding me to make myself whole.
Copyright © Hira Fatima | Year Posted 2025
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Hira Fatima Poem
Death's Shadow creeps across the wall
Where memories of triumph Stand tall
Each scar tells stories of battles won
Each breath echoes choice made, undone.
The ledger of our days is closed
Accounted for in every pose
No whispered no apologies sought
No trembling knees, no faltering thought.
Before the throne of judgment high
We stand as mountains touch the sky
Our hearts ablaze with righteous pride
Our soul unbroken, side by side.
The divine inquirer raises sight
Upon our shoulders, straight and bright
No shame deliberate, no guilt resides
Only the peace that honor provides.
Through trials fierce and tests of fire
We walked the path our conscience dire
Each step deliberate, each choice clear
Our character forged, year by year.
Copyright © Hira Fatima | Year Posted 2025
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Hira Fatima Poem
She walks in rooms where silence hides it face,
Not loud, but warm-a hush, a golden thread.
She touches cracks that time cannot Lace,
And brings back truths that long ago were dead.
She melts the ices that wraps around the Insides,
And stands where fear and shadow still reside.
A flicker dressed in silver–soft she Greets,
No sword, no Storm , just bare and steady beats.
She doesn't run, she doesn't Harbor pride–
She only stays to Tell what pain denied.
~hira~
Copyright © Hira Fatima | Year Posted 2025
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Hira Fatima Poem
A mirror isn't just a frame,
A sheet of glass that speaks your name.
It shows your image. Yes, it's true–
But now the whole of what is you.
It doesn't bend, it doesn't fake,
It captures truths you cannot break.
But mirror hide in the other forms–
In quiet thoughts, in silence storms.
In words that bruise, in eyes that know,
In shadows you still fear to show.
Not every mirror dare to shine–
some show the crack you called divine.
So ask yourself what mirrors mean–
They’re more than Polished, silver, clean.
They’re, everything that lays you bare–
Your secret grief, your silent prayers,
The mirror speaks without a sound–
It sees the soul where truth is found.
Copyright © Hira Fatima | Year Posted 2025
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Hira Fatima Poem
They told her,
"Words are just air".
But air can bruise,
and silence can tear.
She learned to bleed in quiet tones,
Each syllable a crack in bones.
They carved her name in crooked lies,
They laughed when truth leaked from her eyes.
Words were chains that held her tight,
sweet on tongues, but edged with bite.
They dressed their hate in honeyed rhyme,
And jailed her voice in scripted time.
But one day,
she picked the pen.
and wrote not for "them"—
Each verse she wrote broke through the bars,
A language made of wounds and stars.
Now every word she dares to speak,
Is thunder rolling through the weak.
~hira~
Copyright © Hira Fatima | Year Posted 2025
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Hira Fatima Poem
A mirror isn't just a frame,
A sheet of glass that speaks your name.
It shows your image. Yes, it's true–
But now the whole of what is you.
It doesn't bend, it doesn't fake,
It captures truths you cannot break.
But mirror hide in the other forms–
In quiet thoughts, in silence storms.
In words that bruise, in eyes that know,
In shadows you still fear to show.
Not every mirror dare to shine–
some show the crack you called divine.
So ask yourself what mirrors mean–
They’re more than Polished, silver, clean.
They’re, everything that lays you bare–
Your secret grief, your silent prayers,
The mirror speaks without a sound–
It sees the soul where truth is found.
~hira~
Copyright © Hira Fatima | Year Posted 2025
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Hira Fatima Poem
They told her
to quiet her thunder–
to fold her voice into corners
where no one could trip over it.
"Girls who speak too much invite war,"
they warned.
So she stitched her lips
with threads of fear and politeness,
and swallowed storms
like rage was a sin
girls weren’t sacred enough to carry.
They called it grace
when she walked like a whisper.
They called her peace
when she stopped rising questions.
But no one noticed
how she flinched at her own thoughts,
how silence grew teeth inside her chest.
She wasn't safe.
She was surviving.
Every time they praised her calm,
they were clapping
for the cage
they built around her.
Because when silence is forced,
it isn't peace.
It's punishment dressed as pretty–
a lullaby
layered over a scream.
Copyright © Hira Fatima | Year Posted 2025
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Hira Fatima Poem
"Blackbird"
You cannot cage what's born to rise,
she blazed beyond their brittle lies.
They named her ash, they named her end,
but fire learns how not to bend.
Her silence cracked the sky in two,
she flew where only lightning flew,
They heard her cry, not weak–but wise–
a battle hymn of "Blackbird" skies.
Copyright © Hira Fatima | Year Posted 2025
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Hira Fatima Poem
If soil could complain-
if air could sign,
if Earth could weep,
and if humanity could truly speak
of what it has done to itself.
They would recount quite wounds,
buried in silence,
echoes stifled by times,
memories sealed away,
folded within like secrets-
the world refused to hear.
But silence is not peace,
it is a storm held in the lungs,
a scream never given voice.
And if one day -
someone dared to listen, truly listen-
To the grief that was never spoken,
they should be overcome by guilt,
They would fall beneath it's weight.The Foyle Young Poets of the Year Award
Copyright © Hira Fatima | Year Posted 2025
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