Read an interesting poem a couple of days ago by a relatively unknown poet. The original poem is in Urdu, but here is an english translation of it:
My forefathers spoke the truth as they saw it
For the glory of mankind, for honor’s sake
For the eternal light
This blood became a beacon for all those
Who stood against tyranny
And the blood flowing on battlefields, on crucifixes, in prisons
Declared their existence
That blood was evidence of man’s honor
Was a symbol of eternal light
And here am I, a barefoot man on the high way of need
Enchained and compromised by common comforts
I find myself watching…thinking..
If the blood of those forefathers flows in my veins
Why doesn’t it cry out?