Why, every day, be a, new conquest
To seize, then lose, then seize, every shred
Of a, mourning, motherland’s, bequest
For its, every inch, two brothers, bled!
A vein, of pain, runs, between them
Since, river of, brotherhood, dried
Vain martyrs, of a, mean mayhem
By, barbed borders, lay crucified!
How estranged, are, one mother’s, sons
Whose faith, is fear, and hate, is God
Their passions, bare, dark dimensions
Of the, ethos of, nationhood, flawed!
Alas, will, this war, ever end
Will peace, lose out, to, pride’s last stand
Won’t broken fences, they, ever mend
The Brothers, Of, Divided Land!
© 2022 Vikas Chandra