Why? Poem by Ajit Das

I'm not sure I know much about you.
But they say you exist;
that's why the earth moves, life breathes.

Some also pronounce
you're long banished, probably dead,
a bit of has-been now.

A few, however, claim
mandates of heaven, each boasting
an exclusive frequency.

But ignorant, credulous as we remain,
we hear about you in language
they prefer to use.

But this much is sunlit
my neighbour and I do exist
and have to live in peace and harmony.

Why, then, is this deafening din
of coiling hatred soaked in innocent blood
all in your holy name?