The Habitats

The Habitats

The habitats lying in a rubble
were once the nests where these brethren of yours
lived and loved.
The love's labour now a heap of ashes,
the orphaned children,
lost and forlorn, scouring the ashes
for the remnants of the pillars
on which their life rested till yesterday.
Look at these little ones, there is nothing but hunger and fear
and a forlorn face,
and nowhere a place
where they can hide
away from the sky,
your sky, not theirs,
your God not theirs,
pouring wrath on their tender limbs
and hearts exposed to a vision of deadly annihilation
which the sky pours in a rain of thunder and fire.
They lived a day ago
in a land they believed was blessed by God,
a land of the pure flow of rivers, lush green farms and meadows,
a land where hills nestled in the lap of mountains and
the mountains rose to kiss the skies.
That was the land that welcomed all;
it was your heritage too.
You, still a human, how did you repay the legacy of your God?
Your sword pierced the heart of the soil and you did not stop
until the soil gave you the last drop of the life in her heart.
There is nothing , not even a drop more she can give .
Do you ever pause to think how you will live?
Did you ever stop to think where this river of blood and terror
is going to flow?
Did you ever think of how
retribution will visit?
Your own children are going to pay with the same fate for them in store; do you ever think and pause
to watch the future course of this bloody river, where and how it will stop?
Is this the souvenir: of hatred and vengeance
that you want your progeny to carry?
Your ancestors of the ancient past
who had created monuments to history
to celebrate life,
who built the Sphinx and pyramids in the sands,
who once built statues to recall that Buddha's thoughts once touched this land,
Don't you think they are shedding tears perhaps
to look at the scourge the human hand and the human mind have brought upon the land of God.
Who will stop this mad rush ,
life falling willingly into a blind abyss,
the dark forest of a diabolic thrust.
Even if God were to incarnate before your eyes ,
you will not hesitate to kill, for your hands know nothing
but destruction and blood.
Beyond the screen of dying embers and smoke, beyond the fumes and beyond the maddening, blinding smell
of your deathly arsenal is the sky that still breathes,
unpolluted by hatred and fear.
Let a thoughtful respite come
and restore the balance  of your heart
and your pulverised world of insanity.
Let the earth regain her lost reign of harmony , peace and love.
They are not dreams of such a long ago
that you cannot recall.
Let the earth raise her voice and sing
to your ears and the ears of all,
"This is your heritage, the heritage of all.
The land and her life is not for burning and killing;
It's meant to be loved and understood,
and perpetuated for the infinite number of years to come.