My Land, My Beautiful Land
By Kiran Lodhie
CA
My land, my beautiful land
is dying
as this plague creeps up
creeps up and up
and up
upon a sleeping nation
that sits by and watches
its supposed protector and leader
leave it to destruction and
chaos.
My land, my beautiful land
is crying
feeling the white toxin
slip into its veins
and slowly -
no, ever so swiftly
poison the brain
washing it with nonsense
and false reasons for
bloodshed, power, oppression.
My land, my beautiful land
is calling
out to its maker
Where is this dream you promised me?
Is it now a sacred land?
Progress, perfection - lies!
The plague seeps in
and we do nothing
nothing
nothing.
Is it still "My land"? beautiful no longer
only bloodshot eyes
of hate
and abuse of "faith"
and the dying of
culture
and civilization
And women will now
sit in their homes staring blank-faced
out windows, unable to leave
And children will now
stand in rows and hours
upon hours upon
hours
recite recite recite
to no use
And their minds will decay -
No progress. No perfection.
My land, my beautiful land
is dying
And we sit. And we wait.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
