But, Buddha Is Dead Poem by shweta singh

Wait! I said to the man running ahead

Looked into his red-bright eyes and said,

A knife in my pocket, a bomb in his hand,

I ask him, 'Can you be a little kind? '

Are you thirsty or these weapons are;

Why to soak ourselves in blood and war'.

I try to make out what's in his head.

He smiles and says, 'But, Buddha is Dead'.

I reciprocate with smile and start,

'We lived in peace centuries after that'

He looked distraught and then snapped,

'Don't act foolish you pale brat;

You know how recently he died,

when they pulled him down at Bamiyan,

second time, they gave him salvation;

For if he was alive, would have cried

I poked, 'we aren't enemies but friends,

throw your weapons and shake hands'.

He winked smiled and then laughed aloud

said without any malice from his side

'I throw my weapon and hug you tight,

but I know you're still hiding a knife'.