The wailing Eid proclaims the dawn of happiness
But how would people listen
When their ears covered with wails and screams?
How would they see the decoration of joy?
When their mystic home is coated with blood?
How would they see the crescent moon
When their kids are butchered in day’s light?
Widowed mother sing songs of separation
In the memory of their beloved sons.
Desperate son’s tears fall infront of his father’s grave.
Beloved Lover makes her own songs to present wish,
Before his arrival.
But how one would escalate sadness,
When her lover is no more.
Waning moon illuminates the mourning night.
A new dawn enlightens before the night of dream.
Our dear ones now call us from heaven
To announce the coming dawn of Freedom!
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