Song Of Innocence Poem by MOLOY BHATTACHARYA

In the darkness of night
From their graves
Rose the children,
Not seen by faces
Only voices heard.
One by one
Word by word
They composed
A song
A song of humanity.

Mark, mark
The gory scar,
The piercing bullets,
The stain of blood
In their bodies
Spilled so chiefly.
They had no gun
No weapon
To resist the blow
That silenced
Their voice,
Their breath,
Their life
To eternal rest.

It was just another day
In the sun
They looked bright,
Very jovial too.
A home of learning
Where their fate
Is sealed.
The caring parents
Fed them,
Dressed them,
Bid them adieu
Or escorted
To school,
A place of safety
That turned nightmare
They were lost,
The lost children
To living parents,
To never return.

Curse those
Cruel hands,
The assassins,
In human shape,
Not human.
No regret
In their lips,
Not tears
In their eyes,
Only to know
What you achieved?
What you gained?
Perhaps, you gained
The anger,
The hatred,
The curse,
The condemnation
From million,
Perhaps your family
Feel ashamed,
Perhaps the womb
Laments
Giving birth to you.

Here we are
Very helpless
To violence
That coerces
Our existence.
Here we groan
And complain.
We only protest
With placards
And candlelights.
Rise like lions
After slumber
In unvanquishable
Numbers
Shake your chains
Like dews.
Wield a gun
For a gun,
To destroy them.
If left alive,
Like phoenix
They would surface
To engulf you.

(Note: A tribute to the resting souls of the dead children killed by terrorists at Army School in Peshawar, Pakistan)