Zubyre Parvez

Rookie - 136 Points (London)

Bangladesh - Poem by Zubyre Parvez

There was a Bangladesh before 1971
It was called India
Before the silver guns went bang
When the people were glad
At having their very own desh
Polite courtesy of the so-called gentlemen
Of the East India company
I speak in the old colonialist's language
Using the language amongst us
The fallen empire
My mother tongue Bengali
Derived from Sanskrit
My father was a follower of Islam
Shahjallal came across a prayer mat
To make my Abba believe
This land is a melting pot of peoples
That's why I know were one tribe, I realise.
Love my lineage to bits in all it's fragments
I'm a part of history
The sacrifices they made
To get us where we are today.

Topic(s) of this poem: roots

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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, May 13, 2015

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