“Their faith, Islam, their fate, jihad
Above all, fears, is their, transcendence
Who ended, kaffirs, and, their charade”
He smolders, in their, frankincense!
He chides, their mother, who mourns, and moans
“You and, your faith, plundered my womb”
“For their ummah, bear, martyrs tombstones”
Exalt, their shahadat, with aplomb!”
You need, 16 shoulders, to lift, 4 beds
Heavier than, earth, that a, father lifts
4 boys, who blew, themselves, to shreds
Are now, in heaven, that, Allah gifts!
“With a bounty, of, 6 dozen virgins
My boys, redeem, their faith’s, reasons”
Still squirms, within, his holy sins
The Father, Of His, ‘Martyr’ Sons
© 2021 Vikas Chandra
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