Biography:
Nasir Aijaz, based in Karachi, the capital of Sindh province of Pakistan, is a senior award-winning and Gold Medalist journalist having served in the field of journalism for half a century in senior positions like editor and managing editor. He also worked as a TV Anchor for over a decade and conducted some 400 programs besides appearing as analyst in several current affairs programs on TV and Radio channels. He is award-winner author of ten books on history, language,literature, travelogue, translations from English literature, and biography. One of his books, translation of poetry of an Egyptian poet, has been published in Cairo. Some of his other books are unpublished. Besides, he has written over 500 articles in English, Urdu and Sindhi, the native language of Sindh. He is editor of Sindh Courier, an online magazine and Chief Editor of Sindhi Edition of The AsiaN, an online news service of South Korea. Dozens of his articles have been published in South Korea while many of his articles have also been translated in Arabic and Korean languages. Many of his English articles have been published in Singapore, Egypt, India and Nigeria. His poems have been translated and published in over a dozen languages including Chinese, Korean, Hindi, Bengali, Tamil, and Malayalam, Albanian, Italian, Greek and Arabic language published in UK, USA, Algeria, Egypt, Abu Dhabi, Iraq, Bangladesh, India, Kosovo, Albania, Tajikistan, Greece, Italy, Germany, China, Korea, Italy and some other countries. Very recently, audio albums of his poems have been recorded in South Korea and China.
The Wars Within
I am fighting wars
Not marked by gunpowder or graves,
But by the silence between thoughts,
By the noise that never speaks aloud.
There are no casualties you can count,
No blood on my hands —
Only the weight of choices,
Heavy on my heart.
I wrestle with the cynic inside me,
Who whispers,
“Why bother?”
But I still dream —
Of change,
Of a world made better
Not by the loudest voice,
But by quiet acts of courage.
Some nights,
I battle desire —
Not for power or wealth,
But for things I cannot name
Without losing pieces of myself.
Emotions rise like tides,
Sometimes flooding,
Sometimes retreating,
But never calm.
And values —
Those old, dusty truths
I swore to live by —
They still shine,
Though time tries to wear them down.
These battles leave no scars
That the world can see,
But I feel them.
In every breath I take
Not to scream,
In every smile I force
To keep going.
I am not broken.
Just weary.
But I march on
In hope —
Not of victory,
But of peace
Within.
***
Hope in Ruins
(Based on a true incident)
In Gaza where the sky
Is always bruised with smoke,
And the ground remembers
Every footstep of grief,
A father made a decision
No soul should ever face.
The thunder of bombs had gone quiet
Just long enough to hear
The breath of his son,
Soft as the dust
Settling on broken walls.
He turned to his brother,
Eyes full of what-ifs and never-agains.
Without a word,
He handed over his child,
Small and blinking,
Clutching a toy already covered in ash.
And in return,
He took his brother’s son—
Held him close
As if bloodlines didn’t matter anymore,
Only survival.
If a bomb falls,
Let one of them live.
That was the logic.
That was the prayer.
That was what love looked like
Under siege.
He kissed the wrong forehead goodnight,
Wrapped unfamiliar arms around a child
He now had to believe was his own.
He didn’t sleep.
He watched the shadows shift.
Each rumble in the distance
A coin toss with God.
And somewhere in the dark,
Two children dreamed
Of sunflowers
And schoolbags,
Not knowing
They had been divided by hope.
Not knowing
They had become
Each other’s lifeline.
(According to Amnesty International, a man in Gaza exchanged his son with his brother, in a hope that in
case of Israeli bombing, his son or nephew might survive)
***
Light in the Darkness
One day, there will be light in the darkness,
A dawn to break this endless night.
Though shadows stretch without a mercy,
I walk alone, yet hold on tight.
A tunnel deep, so cold and hollow,
No stars above, no signs ahead,
Yet every step, though faint and faltered,
Is guided by the hope I’ve fed.
The walls may whisper doubt and sorrow,
The silence press upon my chest,
But still I move, with dreams unbroken,
A quiet fire within my breast.
No map, no voice, no hand to lead me,
No promise written in the sky,
And yet, I trust the dark is fleeting,
And light will come — by and by.
For faith is not in what we witness,
But in what we choose to see:
A distant spark, a gleam of purpose,
A truth that sets the spirit free.
One day, there will be light in the darkness,
And all this pain will turn to peace.
I’ll step into that warm horizon—
And find the place where burdens cease.
***
Gaza's Song of Hope
Once a vibrant land, alive with grace,
Gaza now bears scars of war’s cruel face.
Heaps of debris where life once soared,
Silent ruins tell stories stored.
Buildings tall, now mere shadows of dreams,
Fallen like rain in fire’s relentless streams.
Homes, hospitals, schools—silent and still,
Ashes and memories, hearts to fill.
Beneath the rubble, lives are buried deep,
Whispers of children who no longer sleep.
Orphans weep, silent and bright,
Mothers and fathers lost to the night.
Women stand as widows, brave and strong,
Holding the hope that stretches long.
A generation scarred, but spirits undimmed,
In resilience, their will is brimmed.
Yet hope persists, amid the despair,
Songs of the brave rise through the air.
From tent villages, voices soar,
In the chorus of hope, they implore.
Gaza Birds sing of dawn anew,
Of love, strength, and courage through and through.
They will rise, reclaim their grace—
Fight the cruelty, embrace their place.
For even in shadows, hope’s light gleams,
Guiding hearts to future dreams.
Gaza shall heal, and soar once more,
A homeland reborn, forevermore.