Four coffins red and white
Four coffins young knight
Like four seasons of the year
Came appear and disappear
They went to be peacekeepers
They changed to peacemakers (or peace bakers
But you cannot plant peace with bomb thud
And water it with blood
Sometimes I am so embarrassed
I am an Afghan-Canadian at last
Look they gave note books and pens
To the students of school
When the bomb blast
But come close
Before exploding of books
And soldiers all join in
He exploded himself
Wasn’t he made from muscles and skin?
Find the roots
One week before that
Five hundred people killed in Punjabi
All that five hundred were not Ta lib
They were women, men and children of a village
One hundred and twenty five people
For each Canadian soldier
It is huge
But still not enough sure
Still four soldiers worth more
Oh my God!
Why you made them from muscles and skin
Nerve and bone
And made us from stone?
It is a long time
There is no balance between numbers
The truth is gone
You haven’t seen that the two soldiers from Israel
Were equal to all dust of Lebanon?
Isn’t the oil of Iraq worth more than all its population?
Isn’t the blood of Palestinians
Worthless like the sand?
In America people are afraid of the fat
In Africa people die from hunger
Nobody hears the cry of Dar fur women
In Bosnia still are discovered hidden graves
It is silence in Tibet
No sound from Chechnya or Kashmir
New Orleans flooded and failed in its hour of need
Bush’s boots even did not get wet!
We are weighed with our religion
With religion that we have been born with
We are weighed with our color
And our dialect
Religion is not the answer
Neither is war
In math two should be equal to two
Otherwise the balance of the universe is far