This cold Peshawar morning

Dead.
Killed on a cold Peshawar morning.
Death is not as I had imagined.
I do not see
black

My dead heart is black,
mother
Mother, It is black.

On a cold Peshawar morning,
at first children of my humanity were
killed
Then I lost my voice
and then any life.
I am dead now.
It is cold and dark.
And I am dead.

Lord, You will have to answer now.
What for?
What now?
Please take away any vestiges
of this rotting flesh.
Death is all that remains.
What for?
What now?