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A Poem About Sant Jarnail Singh Ji Khalsa Bhindranwale


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A humble attempt by myself:

A courageous champion of truth was born,

Saddened at how his homeland was torn,

At frequent funerals how he mourned,

A vow to annihilate the perpetrators was sworn

Touring villages highlighting how innocents were slain

Frail peasants viewed their very existence as a strain

There stood a serene figure who could alleviate their pain

An unblemished might that would revolutionize the game

His words spurred motivation, inspiring cohesive sturdiness

Never did the annals of history predict such defiance

Absorbing their plight, he initiated a dynamic resilience

The architects of despair would now feel fury of vengeance.

Swords were drawn from scabbards through divine instruction

Retribution was executed with perfect precision,

In a bloodbath of justice, sinful officials lost direction

Apostles of hate reeled with indecision,

No longer was the reign of terror presiding unspoken

A sleeping lion was roaring after being woken

A burning heart in a broad chest, they were no longer craven

Faceless shackles of slavery were cast off and broken

The ground beneath the generals of doom was quaking

Painstaking it was to witness subordinates stampeding

A plan of slaughter was devised to prevent them existing

Frightful and unparalleled, they began implementing

Soothing winds that once blew stung with even more severity

Never were the soldiers of truth prepared for such cruelty,

Torture, rape and death, the price for attempting to turn the dream into a reality

Darkness in the skies became an unending element of the scenery

Property reduced to ashes, bodies and souls hacked to pieces

The lion was tamed and with it the thrust towards justice

A new leadership failed to combat the growing crisis

Peasants once again accepted their downtrodden status

This hoard of sheep are being led by blind shepards,

To a slaughter house where they will meet their ends,

These shepards are brought by the highest bidder

Freedom, truth and justice there is not even a glimmer

But the champion’s footprints are engrained in the sands of time

His charisma and vigor will echo for all wedged in grime,

The peasants all over crave to hear his words and that is a certainty

He became the heartbeat of a generation, it will pound for eternity

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