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Stand still ,Rohingyas in Burma!
like a steel sturdy
Stand like a mountain
like a thorn in their flesh
like a rock in their throat
Don't bow or even think of a retreat.
A beaming ray of justice will push aside
to let all the weathered pulverized flowers
sprout and bloom again
and all the refugees to return home to cultivate their lands
and rekindle their ovens.
Your ruins ,
your slain kids
are a disgraceful mark on
our puppets which are hanging by a thread,
and as a scarlet letter on the humanity which run in vain
after illusions with a rendering-heart cry.
I am drowned now in pain
to see you standing still
all alone on a cliff
no bottom down to hit
no placard up the air,no parade behind to protest,
only a stranglehold of inertia and
inexplicable ensuing silence of the entire world.
but stand still ,Rohingyas !I say
to prick up your ears
and listen with me
to the streams gurgling
with rocks, stones,pebbles
by a mile
all stitched up ready to roll and break
Don't give up,Borma!
recite with me before I leave this holocaustic scene:
Mills of God grind slowly,yet they grind exceeding small .