Kash Baloch — Poetry on Identity, Love, and Survival

Have you been baptised in the river Ganges or tasted the sweet, succulence of pomegranate? It beckons you with a single gesture, then lingers like fragrant jasmine. No funeral pyre is complete without its song, a haunting melody that intoxicates the senses; glimpses of past lives flash in your mind transporting you to simpler times.

01. Aspire to focus on the good, and always count one's blessings. 02. Embody the change I wish to see, not only in the world, but also in myself by striving to be the best version of me. 03. Accept that setbacks occur, and learn to utilize them as a catalyst for growth. 03B. Then, revisiting these same lessons until they are learned, to prevent the formation of patterns. 04. Prioritze the people and things that serve the greatest good, distance oneself from those which are destructive. 05. Remember that each day is a brand new opportunity to conquer the world, and to wake up with an attitude of gratitude. 06. Take inventory with oneself regularly, in order to ensure all needs are being met. 07. Silence the mind long enough to listen to intuition. 08. Set out to accomplish at least one ignored task daily. 09. Realize health and self-care are crucial; strive to lead a healthier, cleaner life. 10. Defeat the urge to be hypercritical of others or of oneself; focus o...

She permitted a single, sobering tear to stream down her right cheek, as she tightened her grip on my hand, and began to speak: "You asked me where it hurts, and forgiveness would not be an easy task,  if I were to lie and pretend I am fine, instead of wearing many masks."  "It hurts everywhere", she continued, "there is no inch of me without pain. Nor is there a moment in my day without ache, tension, or strain."  Then the dam broke, and her sadness poured from her like a flood,  waves of nausea washed over me at the sight of her sadness stained by civilian blood.  "Take for instance, Israel or the Gaza Strip, right here in the Middle East,"  at this, she pointed to her abdomen and winced like it was being devoured by some unseen beast. Humans have destroyed me, killing one another in the process, the ugliness of man is unlike any other to prevent its own progress. Their bombs rip me to shreds, and replace my beauty with craters; ...

Reduced to rubble, from missiles careening, sirens wail, signaling incoming threats. Blood dyes the streets red from casualties, filling the air with the unmistakable stench of death. Children orphaned in seconds, from wars waged for the greed of men, there is no humanity under duress, when will we learn to love instead? Entire cities destroyed in an instant, they say all is fair in love and war, widespread suffering and sadness replace the peace that existed before. All this ugliness for no reason, for hand drawn borders in vain, until mankind relinquishes its ego, history will repeat itself again.