No More Ours - Poem by Sadiqullah Khan
Deal me the way of silence,
From your jealous eye, protect,
A colonial’s wish who enters with gospel
And had slaves bound in chains,
My parent’s rusted sword or I might,
Be the Tribe, running from the man,
Who brought booze and disease and wrath.
I am the neo-colonial’s adventure,
A bull’s eye, for once the sage on the Indus,
Said, ’Ah! They saw the Indus and it is no more ours’.
No more ours are the airs, no more ours,
Is the faith. Twisted, corrupted and incorporated,
No more ours are the lands,
No more ours are the hills,
No more ours are the thoughts.
No more the freedoms, our generations prepare,
For more bloody battles, for more,
You are the mercenaries, you are the bought slaves,
You have your heads bowed,
To the dictated preacher, a servant retired,
Yours is fate to be unborn,
To be expandable, fodder of cannons.
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