Waiting to Be Arrested at Night

The night is deep, the wind is still,
Yet shadows creep beyond my sill.
Footsteps echo down the street,
Like distant drums, a marching beat.

Four were taken, none to fight
Snatched away in dead of night
I ran, I hid, yet here I stay
Awaiting dawn or fate’s dark play

For Mahrang Baloch: A Voice for the Voiceless

In the land where silence breathes,
Where shadows move, and truth deceives,
She stands—a flame against the night,
A beacon bold, a fearless light.