justice—where is justice?
Where voices unite, a chorus strong, / Demanding justice, righting wrong
This is a garden, these are my petals; this is my armoring plant
I've seen love/ Rolling down from a mother's eyes/ As she picks her lean child, bathed in innocent blood
go further than/ what the hills have seen/ through their ice pick scars
The yard in this noontime is buzzing with/ The white aroma of the guava flower
I'm tired of living with this nagging thought that we'll cross paths someday, /You and I
Do you want my hands/ Will they be enough to keep you warm
You have made ice out of my heart;/ we were once nothing–you brutalise me
justice—where is justice?
Where voices unite, a chorus strong, / Demanding justice, righting wrong
This is a garden, these are my petals; this is my armoring plant
I've seen love/ Rolling down from a mother's eyes/ As she picks her lean child, bathed in innocent blood
go further than/ what the hills have seen/ through their ice pick scars
The yard in this noontime is buzzing with/ The white aroma of the guava flower
I'm tired of living with this nagging thought that we'll cross paths someday, /You and I
Do you want my hands/ Will they be enough to keep you warm
You have made ice out of my heart;/ we were once nothing–you brutalise me
“Stop mocking me, Atif! I am telling you there is something here.”