When Humans Die, Gods Don'R Cry...Why? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? Poem by lalitha iyer

A tragedy is not a single day's output,
the seed venomous sown ages past
watered and blossomed with hands foreign,
multitudes littered, multitudes filtered,
the story is an uncompromising legend,
not to end without shame and stain
kids bleeding
heart is curdling
head is reeling
hands are trembling
save the innocents
scrawling like worms
hot is the sky,
hotter the shelling spy
earth is pained
cruelties are mounting
heartless, inhuman
once again Hitlers have sprung
from the roots of History books
how to wipe evil
without wiping good
when it rains
it rains for all
when it bombs
it kills one and all
who is the right
who is the faulty
are they focussing the ethnic minority
or the tigers of liberation
freedom at the moment of death
liberty from the hands of perennial torture
from the hands of self and aliens
when living is painful
death is the only salvation
who will give the refugees land
who will clothe them
who will feed and fund them
what could you do
when the fence eats the crop
or crop outfences
when you are in an alien land
where you multiply without curb
voices of freedom will seldom be heard
for you are the camel in the shelter camp
discretion should play
decision now well delayed
after massacre saving is no use
before the war evacuation is wise
after deaths hue and cry is not in taste.