Attack

Not one. Nor two. But multiples of ten.
Numbers numb with each fearful counting.
Children, teachers, staff, to a maddening
Spray fall dead, injured. Again. And again.
A few suicide-conditioned men smear
Walls with their exploding faith and shrapnel
Fan them to a twisted heaven and shells
Litter the rooms like surviving fear.
Two who stood up to protect innocence
Were set on fire. The third shot in the head.
How does one gather their resolve or tread
The ground slippery, but makes no, no, sense.
Words cannot hold this weight but with what ease
Politicians sit and talk committees.
M Athar Tahir
Lahore