As I sit in the burning piece of land

That has always been my homeland,

The borders around it continually shrink.

Confining me to a smaller and smaller area.

Thrusting my soul and my spirit

Into a corner

Where hope does not exist.

Fleeing is not an option

Because I can never flee

From the horrors

Of what I have evidenced in my life.

The horrors of death, abandonment, immurement, and captivity.

The labels of rebel, insurgent, and extremist.

I cannot leave

For my soul would yearn to return

To this smoldering cage.

I have to stay.

Because only staying will liberate me

From this curse of encagement.

Leaving will increase the torment of my soul.

I know no help will come.

I wait for the siege to push me into the waters of the Mediterranean.

I look into the gradually decreasing sets

Of equally victimized eyes around me.

I see the same despondence.

But also the same iron will

To hold our motherland

To the last breath.

Even if it eventually pushes us into the dark, abysmal waters.

Escaping will not bring relief.

Abandoning the soil will not bring relief.

Faith in our heritage

To the last breath

Will be our only relief.

The fire can reach my door

Any moment

By ground or by air.

I patiently wait.

Aalia Suleman is a freelance writer from Karachi, Pakistan. Her writings can be accessed at sociopoliticallypakistani.com. Aalia can be reached at aalia.suleman@gmail.com. Read other articles by Aalia.