On the 100th Anniversary of Jallianwala Bagh Massacre
Green couldn’t have turned more crimson On the day when petals became April showers. Vaisakhi’s moon brought forth a year new, A spring harvest of doom and gloom. This garden is holier to me Than God’s thousand Gethsemanes. It has borne witness to the agony Beside which blood on thousand crosses pales. The Indo must never turn the Anglo Here in my vale full of beans. Would that on this day of the morrow The doves rose from the fallen petals.