To take stock, of his, flagging flock
A spent sage, went, on a pilgrimage
Where faith, squirms, in fear’s, aftershock
Two moribund men, mused, hate’s outrage!

Vatican’s Kafir, Shias’, Last Emir
What’s left, with them, but vain rhetorics
In a land, which is, hope’s, last frontier
Ethos lay strewn, with, fear’s relics!

Had he, dared, to meet, Abu Baghdadi
He might, have been, a true martyr
Neither Kurds’ misery, nor of, Yazidi
Does he care, for them, who call him, “Seer”
Can a, hopeless man, be a “Savior”!

Done, with his, barren, bonhomie’s rites
He failed, to fill, faith’s, ageless abyss
In a, stormy sky, who flies, hope’s kites
Pilgrim, Of Peace, Or Prejudice!

© 2021 Vikas Chandra