Archived_Member5
(previously jeetijohal, account deactivated at her
Amritsar - 1984 The mourning awaiting a dawn...
War and battle, nation versus land and brother against man, how they fight
It haunts, the weeping of widows of the sleeping in deathless slumber, the walking dead
Faces once radiant, beautiful and fair, now darkened with sorrow ,trapped in their caves of pain.
Twenty five years later, of a battle long forgotten, It was I who was slumbering as my people were slaughtered
In a nation loved as my own. Tortured souls, none listens they tell in broken voices tales of woe too pained to bear
Fathers, Sons, Brothers and Husbands beaten, battered and burnt alive before their eyes, Dear God what is this.
Raising their little ones in ghettos and slums, where no one dare ask if they are well, fearing the tears that swell, tales to tell.
From eyes long dead, unseeing and haunted, with visions of such horror, and a pain few have courage to hear
Heart breaks and it aches, is it not forsaking, to cover our ears than confront abject fears, of ghosts wandering, ghostly.
They dare not break, on camera, aggrieved, forsaken and tell of their misery, in poverty looted of all they held dear
The forgotten ones of the absent Sun, set in their world for gain glory’s for others, of a modern interest
How do we live, or rest, when confessed the wailing of a legacy as enslaved as its Land, a heritage, God no!
The forgotten ones, not worthy of attention, no consumerist circumvention or social value at all, appal
Feel my pain, as it bleeds, He said, heart wounded and broken, as our own dejection is echoed far away in other places
Life is dire, look to the less fortunate, than the better than I’s, Edlers say, but how Father, I have not the strength.
Fear the might of a tyrant masqueraded as a government as others as crooked, relied upon sins for their own transgressions.
They come in the night, loot, pillage and fright, and neither God, Lord or saviour in sight, they said
How do we live, breathe, for tears once wept copiously for holocaust victims, at a time our lights were silently extinguished.
Extremist they said, as they stole and they bled, each soul that dared question their savage brutality, inexcusable
In lands of the free, and plenty what bloodlust for the lives, sweat and tears of the hungry and poor, of foreign alien ones.
Feel Gods Pain, as the rich feast on souls kept impoverished, still lamenting, whilst anguished beings exists in haunted caves, forgiving...
A paryer for the survivors of the 1984 holocaust - May their days be blessed with Peace, Prosperity and Much Love.
Temporarily exorcised for your bold exclusion, Waheguru Di Mehr..
War and battle, nation versus land and brother against man, how they fight
It haunts, the weeping of widows of the sleeping in deathless slumber, the walking dead
Faces once radiant, beautiful and fair, now darkened with sorrow ,trapped in their caves of pain.
Twenty five years later, of a battle long forgotten, It was I who was slumbering as my people were slaughtered
In a nation loved as my own. Tortured souls, none listens they tell in broken voices tales of woe too pained to bear
Fathers, Sons, Brothers and Husbands beaten, battered and burnt alive before their eyes, Dear God what is this.
Raising their little ones in ghettos and slums, where no one dare ask if they are well, fearing the tears that swell, tales to tell.
From eyes long dead, unseeing and haunted, with visions of such horror, and a pain few have courage to hear
Heart breaks and it aches, is it not forsaking, to cover our ears than confront abject fears, of ghosts wandering, ghostly.
They dare not break, on camera, aggrieved, forsaken and tell of their misery, in poverty looted of all they held dear
The forgotten ones of the absent Sun, set in their world for gain glory’s for others, of a modern interest
How do we live, or rest, when confessed the wailing of a legacy as enslaved as its Land, a heritage, God no!
The forgotten ones, not worthy of attention, no consumerist circumvention or social value at all, appal
Feel my pain, as it bleeds, He said, heart wounded and broken, as our own dejection is echoed far away in other places
Life is dire, look to the less fortunate, than the better than I’s, Edlers say, but how Father, I have not the strength.
Fear the might of a tyrant masqueraded as a government as others as crooked, relied upon sins for their own transgressions.
They come in the night, loot, pillage and fright, and neither God, Lord or saviour in sight, they said
How do we live, breathe, for tears once wept copiously for holocaust victims, at a time our lights were silently extinguished.
Extremist they said, as they stole and they bled, each soul that dared question their savage brutality, inexcusable
In lands of the free, and plenty what bloodlust for the lives, sweat and tears of the hungry and poor, of foreign alien ones.
Feel Gods Pain, as the rich feast on souls kept impoverished, still lamenting, whilst anguished beings exists in haunted caves, forgiving...
A paryer for the survivors of the 1984 holocaust - May their days be blessed with Peace, Prosperity and Much Love.
Temporarily exorcised for your bold exclusion, Waheguru Di Mehr..