Sameer Mehrab

Shadows on the wall

When the king is dead

When the fire is lit

When the skies are bloodshot red

The clown will dance

A dance of the dead

Sowing seeds with as many hands

Seeds from which only tomb stones grow



The clown will dance

Till the skies are covered in dark robes from end to end

Till the sun sets on the far-flung horizon

Till the night creeps in

And our dreams of another day drown

In sheer darkness of a night not worldly


The clown will dance

When the king is dead

When the fire is lit

When the skies are bloodshot red

When heavens intrude in worldly realms

When reason sleeps

When the night creeps

When the sun sits down

When small men cast giant shadows

And love, dignity, truth and even the light

Drown into the darkness of the shadows

Cast on the walls of my hometown


O my hometown, my home

How come we came to this?

How come these walls bear such burden?

Those crumbling mud walls of my hometown

The very walls that gave us shelter

Before we lost our innocence

Before the time immemorial

Before the fallen angel

Before the creation of sin

Before the hell and the heaven

Before shame

Before virtue

Before hangings and crucifixions

When liberty was yet not a privilege

When we all were children

When the crumbling walls of my hometown

Weren’t covered with shadow and posters of the missing

Once men of flesh and blood turned into shadows

And mementos hanging on crumbling walls


Under the dark shadows of those walls

The clown will dance.

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Sameer Mehrab is a writer and co-founder of Balochistan Times. He often depicts Balochistan's socio-political dilemmas in his fiction and poetry. He is based in Canada.

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