My heart weeps for I was a boy once,
Cycling in an Arab street of Sharjah,
A street that looked like the one torn apart
In the brutal extermination of Gaza.

My heart weeps for I was a boy once,
Walking through a farmland in Calicut,
A farm that could have been colonised
Like in the settler colonies of West Bank.

You named them the children of darkness,
Yet you were the clouds looming over them.
You talk about proportionate responses,
I say start with giving back stolen lands.

My heart weeps for I am a man now,
Roaming freely around the world,
A world that watches live genocide and apartheid,
Yet waters it down to a war and a conflict.