Hardik Vaidya

Rookie - 314 Points (26 Dec 1969, I won't be dead till you know I am alive. / Mahuva, Gujarat, India.)

To My Sikh Brothers - An Indian Apology - Poem by Hardik Vaidya

You were butchered.
Your wife, my sister was raped,
Her jugular sliced, she then bled to death.
Your daughter, my daughter, saw
Eyes open, dead yet alive,
Cubes of you, diced meat of her mother,
Then she was raped, torched,
You were dead, I sat on my sofa
A 1000 Kilometres away weeping
A crocodile
I still weep a crocodile.
My hide has become my soul
My brains have shrunk to a walnut
No one was guilty
It was an accident
A tree fell
And you were standing underneath.


Note:

In memory of the innocent Sikh Indians who were butchered just because they happened to be Sikhs. Two body guards of Mrs Indira Gandhi who happened to be Sikhs opened fire on her and assassinated her. The nation was hijacked by a few hooligans and Sikhs were butchered. The Sikhs have been a warriors race, and have died with honor and dignity for our Nation India defending her against her enemies. All their sacrifice was forgotten because of an act of madness by two humans who happened to be Sikhs.


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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, May 1, 2013

Poem Edited: Friday, September 20, 2013


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