The War Song- A Poetic Version

Sahil Sharifdin Bhat hails from Lethapora Pulwama, Kashmir

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By: Sahil Sharifdin Bhat

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Don’t leave the basement, my little son.

It is not the time to play and run.
Most of your friends are already dead
With bullets , hunger , terror and dread .
Your mom a refugee and dad in battle
Fighting for his freedom ,land and cattle .
Your sisters missing, your  grandpa  lost—
Lying perhaps dead  somewhere in frost .
Come to your grandma , go not outside .
They are blinded by power,  rage and pride .
They have guns ,  tanks , planes and drones .
Our men fight with prayers and stones .
They hate our faith , colour  and language.
They bomb every city , town and village .
They assault girls and humiliate the old .
They kill the young and steal our gold .
They control the media of every nation
With threats  , bribery and donation .
Thieves, rapists , hypocrites and killers
But they name themselves peacemakers .
They do not fear any deity or God
And rule the world with an iron rod .
They are hunters and we are prey .
We have been made for their play .
Listen to me , O my little grandson ,
Else they will kill you for their fun .

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