My speech dead in my throat. <br />My words are stagnant in my pen. <br />My thoughts frenzied, deranged. <br />I am afraid to recollect scenes. <br /> <br />As day goes by, they add on lies. <br />Khans, Mushreffs, n’ Sardari’s, <br />Ghillanies still blood thirsty, <br />mongering war for Vulture’s feast. <br /> <br />Still they live in an era of Ghori, <br />Attack all around as Gazni. <br />Spitting bullets on innocents, <br />Terror (jihad) in name of religion. <br /> <br />Bled we lie on an arrow bed. <br />Composed we fold our hands. <br />Sad smile on face is not cowardice. <br />It is divine glow of our courage. <br /> <br />Blood decked, turned bloody flowers. <br />Hibiscus blooms in every heart. <br />With blood stains, sunrise everyday, <br />until perpetrators are punished. <br /> <br />A nation of make believers, <br />loves to dance on holocaust. <br />Their leaders spit hate on freedom, <br />Wearing a turban of indecency <br /> <br />We just wish to say a prayer for all, <br />By lighting a candle in our heart. <br />My tears flow incessant until then, <br />those fallen flowers are consecrated <br />____________________<br /><br />Satheesan Rangorath<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/twentysix-eleven-26-11/
