Birth and growth of a country

Those days that he would just sit on in his classroom,

Before he saw through and beyond the concrete walls,

Fighters, not much different from others, and their calls

To join a dream for freedom, freedom of their country to dream.

The young student released all his comrades on his prison break,

And proudly stood alone, hands tied, and a rope about his neck.

He had written an anthem and thousands felt it in their blood,

The poet’s mind knew no limits, his pen sparked revolution,

Yet on that ‘free’ dawn, they divided into separate nations,

Nations which stood for bodies of power, and not it’s people

Who hated one another, blind that they shared the same sun ray.

The poet couldn’t preach the greater meaning of ‘Independence Day’.

And decades after that blood shed on either bank of the river,

The aspiring voted leader came upon a dire choice,

He chose to bribe his way to win, to raise his voice,

To lay the roads, build a school, a hospital for his village,

But he questioned his ways and was aware of his burning fire

To serve his people and later stopped thinking other than his own desire.