Mutinies, of faith, litanies, of fears
Whisper, “Our God, Dies Everyday!”
When hunger, of all, endless years
Condemns, their life, “A castaway”!

Deeper, than wrinkles, of, parched earth
Are the scars, on soul, of an, ethos lost
In the, mankind’s race, of wealth, and worth
Its cradle, bore, its triumph’s cost!

No more than, “13 Million, to die”
In UN’s, funereal, statistics
Death is, their lasting, lullaby
Who’re nailed, to, misery’s crucifix!

A vain-martyr, of its, self-deceit
Whose, ethnic esteem, seems, long-dead
Avows, to world, its self-defeat
For A Drop, Of Hope, And, Shred Of Bread!

© 2022 Vikas Chandra