Which faith smolders, in the soul, of this land
This ain’t, that lost, Afghanistan
But a tomb, sinking in, fear’s quicksand
Blood-baptized, fief, of Taliban!
All mothers, hail their, sons “martyrs”
Who lay, in shreds, in Kabul’s dust
In the, rites of pain, how pride matters
Does faith, make death, prejudice, august!
The legacy, of a, lost, cold war
Still lingers, in the name, of faith
Belief became, bad blood’s, metaphor;
Afghanistan, pain’s, fearful wraith!
A blow, for a blow, an eye, for an eye,
Blood spills, no end, in this, ‘child’s play’
Their faith, is fear, and God, a lie
Who Live Jihad Everyday…!
© 2019 Vikas Chandra