A holy day it was When the dark skinned gathered there Under open skies unowned On the land of their forebears They met to offer forth their prayers
They entered the walled space Through gated entrances five Mixed mass of gender, age and creed Unarmed they gathered, unarmed strived Ruled by white Lords, to keep culture alive
From a raised bank, he watched Fair general and his native troop When the time was right, dropped his arm Unleashing bullets on endless loop Laying waste to unwary group
Swarming mass in open tomb Clamour to protect all life and love Mother crouched encasing child so soft A man holding his wife, a flapping dove None spared from cold end reigned from above
Hot metal darts indiscriminate Sliced through humid burdened air Muting wails of the sentenced helpless Piercing flesh of the souls stripped bear Earth wept with weight of blood spilled there
Thus ebbed the day of the massacre Beaded sweat trickles down Generals brow Blood and meat lay heaped at exits five Shrouded in questions of the why and how That such slaughter could one man and his arm allow.
To those lost at the Jallianwala Bagh massacre, Apr 13th 1919.