Poem Reflects Rural Exodus and Hope for Return

Smooth roads have reached the villages
But the returning steps are lost
The roofs are the same, the smoke is gone
The courtyard is looking for the person who speaks.

The son from the desert says –
Mother, I am happy here.
He smiles, hiding the blisters on his palms.
The mother says after taking half the medicine –
I am also fine, son
Here the field is waiting for hands
There the airplane is carrying youth
The country keeps youth in speeches
Youth keep the country in mobile pictures.

The teacher teaches in school –
You are the pillars of the country.
The child looks at the map and asks –
Teacher, is my future within this map?

In the hospital, the bill comes before the breath
In the office, acquaintance before application
Mansions are built by selling the path of the river
After the flood, nature is blamed
But the country is not over yet.

There is still light left in the daughter's copybook
There are still seeds left in the farmer's fist
There are still questions left within the silent citizens.
We don't need another slogan
We need unwavering integrity
Not another sweet assurance
We need a basis to live on our own soil.

O country! Do just this much
That the punishment for loving you
By going far away from you
I don't have to suffer.

Mother, keep the door open
One day the airplane
Will bring your son back
And the sound of home will be heard in the courtyard again.