I. 

I'm fine.
I mean I'm in pain,
but at least it's mine.
I feel it,
and so I'll heal it
in time.
But when I see
the way you hurt
and that there's nothing
I can do
to ease it,
how I wish
I can hold it
with my bare hands
and simply take it away.
But I cannot.
We are not equipped
that way.
But I will keep you
in my words
when I pray
And ask to
heal you,
like me taking your
head on my shoulder
and whispering
it will be okay.
You will be okay.
Maybe it is just easier to say,
Than it is to stay.

by Tahseen Nower Prachi

II.

A sudden gush of steaming wind whipped Tara's hair. The air was saturated with salt water. Tara could fathom the distinct fragrance of it. Kalim Chacha always says hot-salty-wind is a sign of Qayamat, the doomsday. It means danger is looming.
Tara grew restless. The cyan-blue southern sky was swindled with patches of wrestling black clouds. Many fishermen had returned home from the sea except for her father.

Soon, the sweltering heat had transformed into bone-chilling cold air. Rain started pounding down as if the alluvial ground would pulverize any minute. The village was being blasted with the repeated bombardment of thunder as if Angel Israfil had blown into his trumpet. "Ya Allah, forgive us sinners, do not drown us, Ya Allah!" Kalim Chacha and others were declaring to the villagers to take safe shelter and pray. Tara's mind was crippled by fear and uncertainty. She heard an ominous hissing & whirling of the waterscape approach the locality.
The villagers were running to take shelter at the 5-story building. Azaan was being recited at the Jam-e-Masjid. Soon, tidal waves higher than Tara's favorite Koroi tree would awash them into God's loyal slave- the sea. But she was finally at ease. Her wrist was aching from the strong grip of her father's hand. She knew Abbu was not a sinner. Abbu would protect her from everything, even from God's wrath.

by Rahman Tas

III.

Life is like a breeze
It's the ups and downs game
Of pain and ease

by Samia J Rahman