Refugee Cry

By Ramesh Kumar TV

Year by year upon the shore, I pass, day by day—

Each nautical wind carries a horror stitched from the south.

I sit on this isolated isle and dream of a peaceful past,

Mingling and caressing strings of revolutionary thought.

I wonder about our bygone days,

When nostalgic evenings wandered our way;

I reminisce about the sweet people in the land of God

Who fluttered and shivered for a patch of sod.

In each liberating thought and autonomy we sought,

A mob’s tussle ignited our hope for leeway.

So we began a war for freedom of sand,

Bloodshed and gore in the name of a holy land.

We staged and staged a meticulous coup,

And divinely dwindled in an unsuccessful rap.

Alas—the scorching sun, the burning skin,

False pride gutted, marred by our sin.

Recoiling, shuddering, we fled to a neighboring state,

Greeted only by a closing gate.

Pity—we gained a refugee’s life in sorrowful pace,

While endless war kept raping our race.

Now, at the end of agony’s decade-old symphony,

In tattered fragments of fallen stars, we stood—

Year by year on the golden shore, holding hands

For a shattered dream of motherland.

By Ramesh Kumar TV