The sun was never so hot;
The sky was never so far.
Dear Potter, are you not
The reason for the useless war?
The pot was not dry,
And the soft clay breaks.
But the pot doesn’t cry
Unless some inner shakes
Bring him to the dusty life.
A pot of dusty clay
Spends hours in strife
To flourish to decay.
-Arif
About the author: Arif Mahmood, a PhD scholar and an assistant professor at Department of English, Islamia College Peshawar, is a writer of prose and poetry in English, as well as in Urdu.
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