| By farooq,
on 02-04-2003 23:47
|
Views : 1427  |
Favoured : 23 |
Published in : , Poems |
The female infant buried in the sand, on Qiyamah, in front of Allah will she stand, Seeking the reason for her premature end, A custom the Pagan Arabs cared not to amend, A mercy for mankind, the Prophet then arrived Ending their murder, their infanticide, But that was the story of a bygone era, I write to tell you a place much nearer,
Where half a million children have met the same fate, Embargoed and traumatised by the United States, I speak of Iraq, crushed and defeated, A country from where all mercy has retreated, Whose children lie buried deep under the sand, Of sorrow and anguish we'd never understand, For what reason, what crime, what sin did they die? The Iraqi children who were born to cry, A genocide of apocalyptic proportions, Hidden and silenced by media distortions, The greatest bombardment in the history of war, Cluster bombs, napalm - all this, what for? Stabilisation of the Saudi economy, 'Peace' with Israel, Palestinian autonomy, All envisioned in the 'new world order' New age imperialism without any borders, And who pays the price for this new world order? The victims of course, of this one sided slaughter, The people of Iraq, both young and old, Whose destiny the Muslims have miserably sold, Whose hopes and dreams have withered and perished, For the everyday freedoms which you and I cherish, The freedom to live, the freedom to survive, Under such sanctions it's hard to stay alive, But they won't get their freedom, until we will get ours, The Muslim nations, from the Imperialist powers, And until such a time what will you do? Go back to sleep like so many do? So the earth cries out, and the heavens do weep, As Iraq dies silently, the world is asleep.
Last update : 02-04-2003 23:47
|
|
|
(0 vote)
