In those times when the camera could not freeze
tyranny for ever

only untill those times
should you have written
that history
which describes tyranny as valour.

Today, gazing at scenes
transferred on celluloid
one can guage
what the scene is like
and the sound
when trees are uprooted from the hillsides.

whether you are happy or sad
you must breathe
whether your eyes are open or closed
the scene,its imprint on the mind
does not change.

The trees that stands in the river
alway remain wooden
cannot become a crocodile.

For a long time now;
we have stood
on the rooftops of stories
believing this city is ours

The earth beneath the foundations has sunk
bu t even now we stand
on the rooftops of stories
assuming life to be
the insipid afternoon's wasted alleyways
with their shattered bricks
and gapping fissures.

Kishwar Naheed

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/censorship-7/