The Hour of Flames

It is midnight.
It is the hour of flames
And the hour of destructive gun powder.
It is the hour of brutality
And hellish havoc.
It is the hour of dreadfulness.
And unendurable nightmare.
It is the hour of sorrow
And frightened scream.
It is the worst hour for the Rohingas
And the aggrieved world humanity.

It is the hour of feelings.
Set on your ears on the air.
You will hear the loathsome sound of screams coming from a far way across.
The sound is coming from the Arakan.
The Rohingas are screaming.

Watch the sky above you.
It is not clear.
It is overcast with smokes.
The smokes are coming from Arakan.
The houses of Rohingas are being turned into ashes.

Watch the water of the river.
It is not crystal clear.
It is bloody
The blood is coming from the Naf river.

Watch the soil under your boots.
It is blood stained.
The blood is of my Rohinga brothers

Smell the air.
It does not smell sweet.
It is giving out the bad smell of the burning Rohingas.

All these feelings arise in the midnight.
In midst of the hour of flames.