The Ruined lives of Rohingya
RB Poem
June 3, 2013
June 3, 2013
The Ruined lives of Rohingya
Just last year, on the third of June,
News had spread to the world, like the light from the moon,
Soon enough everyone knew,
Of the cleansing of Muslim Rohingya while they flew,
Flew to other places such as neighbouring countries or even the muddy river,
Where they hid, nervously, and ran while due to the weather they shiver,
They clutched their chests and blanketed their wounds,
Meanwhile, they do nothing but cry as if they had a swoon,
And this was all caused but from one community of Buddhists who kicked these poor Muslims out with the end of their shoe
And the Muslims kept on hanging and hoped the Buddhists rue,
The tearing, the ripping, the raping, the burning just too much to list,
But to sum it all up it lead to death all with a punch of a fist,
Not only one but from the Government too,
Who carelessly sat back and waited for their cue,
The one whom they call ‘The Lady’,
Now has her ears shut tight and her sight all hazy,
This was all a show, an act of revenge they say,
As they made a silly rumour about a rape attack that happened one day,
The killing spread through the country like a deadly disease,
And many Muslims begged helplessly on their knees,
As the killing rode through like a baffling track for trains,
From higher Burma to centre and to lower, equivalent to a network of veins,
They threw little children in the deadly fire,
And burned them until they cooked in the scorching fryer,
The people suffered and died in the rubbish and stubble,
But still the monks took away more innocent lives even though they went through all that trouble,
The poor suffering children cried feebly for their dead parents,
But these kinds of horrible attacks went way back to the ancients,
Maung Zarni; a great man, who stand as mighty politicians,
Go forth and tried to complete a mission,
Helping these Muslims were the first thing on their list,
And made sure the world knew these helpless Muslims exist,
And know we all stand here in two thousand and thirteen not seven,
Where we hope the passed away Muslims have entered the greatness of heaven.
A poem specially dedicated for the commemoration event for the Rohingya and other Muslim victims of deadly violence 2012-2013. This poem is written by Ridhwaana Jarmal who is an author of “Guardians of the Bookshelf dimension” and also a member of "The Society of Authors UK".
