The Captive Land Poem by Swila Bathool

I sniff the foul smell of the land
The cloud of smoke and the red coloured sand
The devils colonized this captive field
They used their lives as a shield

I see there in the barren tray
The dead flesh of the devils prey
The fresh flesh with their eyes shut
Preserved in the heavenly hut

The devils, from their wicked beak
Spit fireballs with blushing cheek
They have smoke in to breathe
This captive land without a sheathe

O World! Are you so blind?
Are you ignoring what you find?
O! There is the devil on your part
But no one there to pull their cart

Don’t you hear those innocents mourn?
Or your inn has become so brown?
O Lord! Hear our plea
And make those devils flea

I will battle with my sword, the pen
Hear their grievance, O mighty men!