We burn, we burn;
But we do not learn,
We burn, we burn;
Mind does not churn!
We bleed, we bleed;
But we do not heed,
We bleed, we bleed;
Peace still not plead!
Most misfortunate of all human tragedies, has undoubtedly been the failure of our race to learn lessons from our past. Books of history for us are neither testament nor sacrament but useless piles of paper. Historians, for us are fools.
We fight, we bleed, we die but we do not learn. We again fight, again we bleed and again we die but again we do not learn. This cycle never stops.
Wars are events of destruction and bring nothing but sufferings, but still we never stop fighting and the greatest idiocy is that our reasons of fight have been same throughout- religion and race, creed and birthplace. God has become an instrument of fight.
Peace! Peace!, shouts the god,
Shackled to his false images, we made.
Peace! Peace!, shouts the god,
When butchers of men, take his name.
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I can write a thesis but lets leave it, and let me continue my poem-
A great guilt our race carries,
And a little guilt comes in our parts too.
To feel it, stare towards the stars,
Look, yellow ones are staring you!
War is neither solution, nor option,
History has taught us enough, or not?
That we should patiently sit,
And solve with wits, our problems.
For the sake of Millions of Anne, and for the sake of sufferings they went through, we need to resolutely be a follower of Peace and not support War especially at a time when India and Pakistan are looking at each other with Hunter's eyes. I know 'Anne'(s) will not be there in our case. There will be Anita, Sunita, Muniya, Simran, Riya, Vaishnavi but will not there be an 'Anne' in them, in their sufferings?
Peace!💓💓
Love!💓💓
YOU ARE READING
IMMORTAL IMMIGRANTS
PoesíaThese words have escaped the city of my heart and are refugees here with their tents on the pages of this book beseeching nationalities of your hearts. Give them the nationalities of your heart.
