Childhood in Ruins

The wildness of childhood, long imprisoned

Like the delicate flapping of wings, in silent vision, 

Pleading against the terrorism-clad cage, with precision

Drawing attention to the crime, innocence cries to the reasoned.

With every blasts, their tender eyes see dark clouds,

Brewing amidst the mist-ful sky, their pain loosing out in crowd,

"Why religion is wearing such an inhumane shroud?"

Their tears rolling down their cheeks, asking us so loud.

Dark and selfish, world is too proud to open the gate,

The collusion with the fundamentalists, spreading the hate,

The sweet words and strong fists, are just busy in debate, 

While some crazy ones are fiercely sealing their doomed fate.

The wilderness now almost lost in these ruins of exclusion, 

Shrouded in the dust, their childhood now is just an illusion,

Like anguish, their painful memories are in utter confusion,

Why the world is mute spectator to terror, they find no conclusion.

Yearning for an equal world, the innocence plays with fire,

For all the hatred to disappear, is what their childhood desires,

Time never heals any scars, just the memories retire,

The fundamentalist thoughts and perceptions must be given a new attire.

And, whenever the world start to see the tyranny, without any religious hue,

Innocence can't be kept away, the suffering children will get their due,

The painful story that emerge from that part of the world, is giving a cue,

Of a forgotten duty of humanity, the sins are getting too much to accrue !!!
(c)Amit Agarwalla