Portrait Of My Fatherland by Sakariyah Ridwanullah


Portrait of My Fatherland as a Body Eating out Its Own Skin

Shall I say my Fatherland is running mad
after having gone farther in the world of another Land?

Shall I say my Fatherland is loosing the grips
that holds firm the pole holding high the banner of our Land?

Shall I say my Fatherland is spewing forth the DOs
 & the DON'Ts after I have aged to father my Father's land on my Fatherland?

Shall I say my Fatherland's hand is turning hard
that hard is the muse to imprint the remedy to the young lads' future hazard?

Shall I say my Fatherland cannot see how hard 
the time before, how harder the time present and how
the hardest the time to come might be if the sword's handle
is not released for the future warriors in the High Land?

If my Fatherland is all ears, all eyes, all sane...
the butcher's son a victim of hunger should not be.


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