Conscience

and

Conflict

Syeda Zauraiz Sohail

Daastan Publishing

First Published in Pakistan in June 2021

 by Daastan PVT LTD

House # A-41, Madni Street,

Lala Rukh, Wah Cantt, Punjab 47040

Text copyright © Syeda Zauraiz Sohail

Book cover copyright © Anum Ameer

Edited by Summaiya Naveed

The moral rights of the writer and illustrator have been asserted

All rights reserved

This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or distributed in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission
of the publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

ISBN 978 969 696 509 1

Edited by:

Summaiya Naveed

Formatted by:

Maliha Zafar

Contents

An Intuition

George Floyd

The Choice

A Caged Bird

Demons

Heartbreak

The Journey 

Morphosis

Unsung Heroes

An Unexpected Encounter

The Smell of Silence

The Abyss of Simulation Sports

Acknowledgements

About Author

An Intuition

Every waking hour, of every waking day,

I hear the distant rumble of thunder a myriad of miles away.

I can almost see the oppressive stygian clouds paving their way,

Blanketing the vast blue canopy and the crimson ball of fire’s ray.

The sky glimmers with hues of white and blue today,

The whistling winds whisper and the towering trees sway.

Babbles of laughter emanate, as the innocent youth laugh and play,

For now, at least, there is no imminent need to join our hands and pray.

I try to enjoy this glorious expanse of land,

As the untamed water, that like an undulating reptilian swiftly ran.

But the signs of impending doom I cannot ignore,

Some days I can see them staring at me, I don’t know what for.

I cannot tell if I’m simply hallucinating, paralyzed by fear,

Or is the rumble of thunder actually becoming clearer to hear?

The malicious clouds inching closer, making themselves shown,

I cannot prevent it: fear seizes my body, making it it’s own.

Maybe I am crazy and common sense has parted with me,

But somehow I am able to sense something that is invisible for the rest to see.

I conceal it well, have schooled my features not to show,

I feign a smile, but it just makes my fear of the storm grow.

Thunder roars and lightening glints in the ebony sky,

Sending sparks of silvery white to strike from up high.

The storm that I felt was coming is now here,

And the air that was filled with laughter, is now laden with fear.

George Floyd

Every street I tread on, every corner I turn,

Their wretched glares towards me burn.

Every building I enter,

I feel as if I am their target’s center.

I have tried desperately hard to not be in the ring,

To be nobody and nothing, and only to the shadows for dear life, I cling.

Light brings with it a gift of sight,

But for me, only an interminable fight

Darkness and solitude are my dearest friends,

Allow my deeply inflicted wounds to mend.

Most of my years, I spent trying to be invisible, to not exist,

And now, I’m no more than a wisp of life, lost in the mist.

Every day did I see my people being brazenly beaten, and their spirits be broken,

Paralyzed by fear, not a whisper had I let escape me, and not a word had I spoken.

Until one day, realization dawned upon me,

And for the first time in my abominable life, was I able to see.

This is what they had wanted for me to be: a good dog and not bark,

And exit this world, my world, without leaving a mark.

It’s stops now; they can all frown,

But no longer will I let myself be put down.

Like a rug used to adorn the ugly ground,

Never again in shackles will I be bound.

Yes, I may be black,

But, there is absolutely nothing in me that I lack.

I might be dark like the night,

But I’m the stars that sparkle, emanating light.

The Choice

It takes a myriad of choices, to shape and make you,

But just a single bad choice, to unmake and break you.

It matters not, whether you are destitute, living life on less than a penny,

Or laboring each day, breaking your back to compete with the many,

It could be the beginning of the end,

Or a chance; from the ashes, to ascend.

To be devoid of emotions, empty, with a hole yearning to be filled,

Or to enjoy small pleasures; allowing yourself to be thrilled.

A choice to gamble and risk it all,

For the slimmest chance of sitting in fame’s hall.

Or to try your luck and headfirst fall,             

It doesn’t matter; it was always your call.

You can choose to end the wait,

And brazenly march up banging on the door of fate.