Five centuries, of, colonial conquest
Seem, summed up, in a, single stone
What hope, is left, in faith’s bequest
Towers, like a tomb, bare to the bone
Whose Jesus, Stands There, All Alone!

Portuguese, carried, Vatican, in their souls
In their, every vein, Catholic hormone
To ‘civilize’ those, lingering in, ‘pigeonholes’
Trampled, to dust, their creed’s, cornerstone
Whose Jesus, Stands There, All Alone!

The legend, of a, crucified man
Is the truth, and myth, in their ethos, sown
By the clan, of, colonial caravan
Decreed, to wreck, their faith, homegrown
Whose Jesus, Stands There, All Alone!

Who sought Him, then, who needs Him, now
A benevolent façade, of, Vatican-milestone
Why take, a bow, to the, millstone, of a vow
To Messiah, on a, conquered throne
Whose Jesus, Stands There, All Alone!

© 2021 Vikas Chandra