City of Dust and Silver The fans slow to a stop in Block 15, as the afternoon heat turns the air to a haze. The children are quiet, the gas is gone, In the long, heavy stretch of these Karachi days. At Munawwar Chowrangi, the road starts to break, While the shadows grow long by the Jauhar hill. We lock every door before the sun sets, Waiting for the night to finally be still. Somewhere in a ward, Faisal breathes for us all, a lone flicker of light where the darkness was deep. While the George family rests in a silence so cold, A city of millions has promises to keep. We trade silver for safety, we walk with a prayer, Through the dust and the sirens, the grit and the pride. Karachi still breathes, Karachi still beats, With a million small stories tucked safely inside.