O outcasts, of the blasphemed land!
Where lead these, lost paths, paved in pain
That history tilled, your heart so grand
Now a misery, rakes your soul, in vain!

“Our homes, our mosques, our seminaries
Look all the same, our splintered dreams!
Stand shaken, now dead cemeteries
Shh…hear in them, our deafening screams!”

Whose hopes, whose faiths, whose lives they spent
For the holy jihad, or blood’s lust!
Their martyr, or, our malcontent?
Many sons of the soil, lost in dust!

“How dare we see, when they stare us
It’s us or them, who laid whom bare!
Are they shrines aflame, or pain pious?
Our faith’s haunting shame, our Tombs Of Fear!”

© 2017 Vikas Chandra