I wanna go away from this traffic I feel trapped in every day. I wanna go to a place where there’s free love and I’m hard to leave. I wanna go somewhere they love me for real…
Not my skin, my face, my body, but my mind, my speech, my soul.
I wanna skateboard on tiles that were laid for lovers. I wanna go where they don’t think drinking is a sin and people would rather sing songs of sweet love gone, forgone and gotten. I want to city lights to warm up my world, not to be highlighter to the frosty fog of God’s grief around. There is so much hate here, people here hate for religion, race and deny rights. That isn’t right. That just doesn’t sound right. But it’s still real?
I wanna wake up to a world where every ethnicity unites to form one greater good, like rainbow giving birth to white.
I want azaan and church bells to be heard simultaneously but I don’t want any war, no bloodshed.
Don’t Krishna and wah e guru jee love each other? They all teach us to love but why do people do the opposite.
I see fewer lights and more bullets, one of them shot Malala in the head while she just wanted to…. go to school.
They wanna profiteer from everything here, love and kindness aren’t free here and neither is food and cloth for the homeless and I feel sad. You can get a heartbroken here but I don’t see remedies for a broken heart.
They inspire storms of words in me. These words are too white for a world that’s all black. These words are too much for a world too less. Why is the world numb to all the hatred that’s propagated? Is writing for light the beginning of the answer?
They say the ignorant hate the pen sometimes. Is it stronger than a sword? Is it the changer of narratives? I was a child once and I read Cinderella and I started to believe in fairy tales. Can I teach the world with a book that there’s more to it than color, creed, caste, religion, gender, sexual orientation and age?
There’s a world beyond the one I know and I know it can exist. Can I write another heroic tale, but this time about the power within us instead of the fairies I’ll always fail to see? There are guns that will kill, but a pen can give life to the conception of a new world.
I want to inflame ambition for a world of equity and justice, can a word start the turbulence of a renewed hope?