Those bloodshot eyes
Those icy stares
Caught in the war, for no fault of theirs.
Losing a mother, losing a brother.
Sad stories and a lot of despair.
Those bloodshot eyes, that icy stare.
Homes blown away, nowhere to return to
Misplaced, displaced
Refugees in their own land.
Their eyes spoke of agony, grief and shattered dreams.
Their eyes told a thousand tales, all of sorrow, cruelty and dashed hopes.
Those bloodshot eyes, that icy stare.
I was happy once, I had a life,
A love, a family and a place I could call mine.
I had brothers to call to help me.
I had a home, a daughter to go back to.
I never hurt a fly.
I saw yesterday my mangled son and
Those bloodshot eyes, and his frigid stare.
O ye who fight in the name of God,
O those who fight for an idea
Spare me my life.
The fight will always be for bloody money, power and gold.
You know not what the idea stands for, nor have you ever feared the Lord.
I have endured suffering and hardship,
Now mistrust runs deep in my psyche,
You may not know what feeling it is to be homeless
I pray that you understand my plight, without suffering it.
O those who fight, stand and see the state of my land
The state of man.
Fight if you think it is a game, fight if it gives you a thrill.
For those our suffering you shall not comprehend.
Going back home is a distant dream.
The one I dare to dream.
Only the hope keeps me alive.
The hope of things that will never return.
The hope of things that will never be the same.
I am the Kashmiri Pundit, the Sri Lankan Tamil,
I was the German Jew, I am the Palestinian Arab.
My story you see in my bloodshot eyes.
I am man, the son of Adam.
