I Raised My Fist Poem by Mehta Hasmukh Amathaal

I raised my fist at my brother to slap,
Heard some sound from the back with clap,
Turning back to look at was turning point,
Anger subsided from revenge joint,

Time just passed with deep grief in mind,
It was unique but new beginning and find,
Why rage disappeared with approach kind?
Thread was opening from reeling wind,

It just struck me how non-violence might have started?
All luxury and smooth path might have been parted?
Why world just bow and remember the prophets?
May be great occasion and happy moments,

There was no luxury and means scarce,
Good men were stared and laughed with farce,
Kind words were laughed at lightly,
Often misunderstood and not taken rightly,

There is so much suffering and agony,
No more friends and enemies many,
Not so kind but act with words piercing,
To fall in lines even with act menacing,

Ancient civilizations still survived,
Sprit not died but contents revived,
Poison to kill poison not preferred,
Sighting the examples often referred,

It is how great God’s men suffered,
Even for humanity and peace life offered,
Still they succeeded in their earnest move,
Laid their lives for only points to prove,

I was saved from worst humiliation,
Road might have been blocked for easy reconciliation,
I learnt a lesson not to loose the sense,
Act so wise even if situation tense