Genocide In Tibet Poem by Dr. Yogesh Sharma
Genocide In Tibet
We are in a hollow world
Where people are headless chicken
Bloody revolutionaries, brute force charging together
To slay, the meditating monks.
Alas! Where are the sane voices?
All dried up
Fearing brutal comrades.
As dry chaff in the storm
Or flies over dead corpse.
Lifeless jokers, dancing meaninglessly.
Closed streets of Lhasa are red
With the blood of monks and lamas.
Some have crossed to a
Paralyzed other kingdom
To avoid brutal repression
Meeting hollow and stuffed comrades.
I cannot dare to open my eyes
To see death’s kingdom
Violent sunlight on shattered bodies
Dead land-ruled by cactuses
Raising of a dead man’s head
Under the cluster of dying stars.
It is death’s world
It is a paradise for ghosts
Moving alone
Trembling with fear
Lips kissing the dying soul.
Revolutionaries have no eyes
In this Death Valley
Bullets select their own targets,
Poor monks grope together
Speechless on this mountain of dying kingdom.
Hollow ideas, sad realities
No conception, no creation, no emotion
Havoc is made in the silent valley.
Only for a desire
To live and let live.
Alas! Roof of the failed world,
Looking-The defender of faith
The Holy One, the Absolute wisdom,
Have mercy, save us.
From:
DR. Yogesh SHARMA
Dear Dr Yogesh Sharma, An agonising poem on the plight of the Tibetan natives. India cannot exonerate itself of its inaction or passivity over the Tibet issue. Like socialism, 'freedom' is unequal. Let's hope it is only an eclipse, a longer one though, in the long history of human cultures. The Indian government, pusillanimously and unimaginatively, denied even the basic right of the Tibetan refugees to peaceful protest at the time of the Chinese Olympic torch procession. A true poet is expected to take a true and courageous stand on matters of grave importance, and hats off to you, for not having dithered in taking one. Regards.
The history of Tibet is bitter-sweet, and a tragic one for all humanity. Such spots of inhumanity like other ones in the world reflect the disease which has been festering like a deadly sore for decades. But the doctors are really quacks in this case, as we all know that their hearts do not bleed for humanity. Thanks for sharing this poem with us Sharmaji. Cheers. Subroto
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4/25/2024 8:43:58 AM # 1.0.0.1119
I read your poems on genocide. Very soulfully written Who can stop all genocides? Tell me who can You and me, We have no scimitars We have hearty phrases Can that save humans'!