If The Sons Don’t End Their Fathers’ War

Who all were, once, Mujahideen
Had fought, for faith, holy jihads
And repulsed, Soviets to, Socialist Smokescreen
When left behind, waged a war, of façades!

Who stole, their peace, Americans! Taliban!
And made brothers, thirst for, each other’s gore
Why bleeds, every day, Afghanistan
Since for them, ‘peace’ is, frailty’s metaphor!

Their sons, resurrected, from their tombs
A heritage, of, carnage and hate
Brothers shred, each other, with suicide bombs
To baptize, in blood, Islamic State!

Will the, faith of fear, last through bloodlines!
Will the balm, of peace, fill, ethnic scar!
Lest the future, fall to, Satan’s designs
If The Sons, Don’t End, Their Fathers’ War!

© 2020 Vikas Chandra

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