A day after the
bloody fair,
I walk the sands
of the square,
In search of my
loving mother,
Father, sister,
and missing brother.
The ground is
still wet and sore,
From yesterday’s
blood and gore.
Still the morning air
with cries is rent,
Of men, women and children
innocent.
Wade I through an
ocean of corpses,
Bloody, dismembered,
maimed and lifeless.
A severed limb
here, a shattered skull there,
It’s blood, bones,
skin, and gore everywhere.
I sit in the
middle of the open graveyard,
A child, a sibling,
and somebody’s ward.
Find not my loving
kith and kin,
Rendered orphan, I
know not my sin.
Pranced I, merrily,
with my family,
Lost them yesterday
to himsa dastardly.
Did not crave it,
did not ask for it,
Still, to me, the
magnanimous served it.
Achieved not
anything, the bullet did,
Conquered not
anything, the bomb did.
With sickening
regularity repeats the himsa,
Alas! The world forgets
the apostle of ahimsa.
‘Do unto others
as you would have them do unto you’,
Remember not this Golden
Rule, the world does.
Created with
insouciant indifference to humanity,
The gun, the
bullet, the bomb, and nuclear insanity.
Humanity
disappears, humaneness vanishes from lexicon,
Charity is charred,
and blown away is compassion.
The unknown
cause marches on, on innumerable corpses,
Diabolical goal unachieved, over mutilated bodies
lifeless.
Wake up, oh unfeeling
world! Where art thou headed?
Can you rule over
populace maimed and dead?
Differentiate and
distinguish between wrong and right,
Help me spread
peace and move from darkness to light.
