Who sowed, in farm, of faith, fear’s seed
The Maker, or the, ones He made
To baptize, mother, who bleed, and bleed
Until, the end, of, the very, last crusade!

“Where is, the glory, in a war?”
Resents, a mourning, mother’s womb
A chasm, is now, what was, once a scar
Misery’s reverie, by a, martyrs’ tomb!

In a million years, of, mutinies
How many crosses, may the, motherland bear
Lost, in her, unheard litanies
O’er, scattered rosary, of her, faith and fear!

Your sons, are men, more than, brethren
Whose truth, is war, peace, more than, a lie
Lest the, bad blood, spill o’er, yet again
Cry, Mother, Cry … !!!

© 2022 Vikas Chandra