How riots, stir the soul, of this land
Bad blood, spills out, in streets, from its veins
A dream dies o’er, faith and, fear’s quicksand
“Intifada…!” screams out, an ethos, in chains!
An age, was lost, to two, bygone ones
As we stand, on the shreds, of Oslo Accord
Those mothers, who in vain, martyred their sons
Have the, faith in jihad, their only reward!
Neither West Bank ours, nor Gaza Strip
Lo and behold, homeless, in their home!
Intifada, is a blood-bathed, brinkmanship
Mean politics, selling, faith’s syndrome!
Dig lots, of graves, for the Judgment Day
May the Satan, glare at, God aghast!
May the souls, bleed too, in hearts’ melee
In The, Third Intifada, Or The Last…!
© 2018 Vikas Chandra
