The Lost Poet (Pt 2)

The hate never ends in this land, it's as if this place has become the land of the damned.

Oh Hasim my brother of the pen
The fate of all those that oppose injustice alone
Has visited you again

I was given a note on a piece of scrap paper
The words griped my heart
For I knew the spirit of the man

Small and frail, with burning eyes I remember so well
His words to my soul did sear
I told them my brother, the words we shared

My God has never ask that you kill in his name
For these words the insurgents in the cover of night came
Kneeling before his family and friends

His words told to me
Remember this thing done today
Never forget my children
Was the last he’d say

As the bullet passed through his brain
God handed Hasim a pen
Saying, Write me another poem my son