They sit at the table with me
Murad and Sana oiling and checking their assault weapons
And Suvir who looks back in anger.
I can bring no peace between them
Because they were born in strife, progeny of tumult and violence
Children who felt the stirrings of love and left it at that
Their lives in a cross hair, living on the edge.
Can I complain the way they have turned out?
When I only had breathed the kiss of life in them.
Tomorrow my children go out in the wide world
In the bookstores and drawing rooms of many
The umbilical cord strains to be cut
Their fate now slipped out of my hands.
They swim in the wide open sea
Heading for shores that would amaze even me.