“How is it you can love the Creator but hate what He created?”
― Carlos Wallace
Once upon a time
In the land of Persia
(Now called Iran)
Lived the followers
Of Asho Zarathustra
They were a very
Hard working
Simple folk
Toiling from sunrise
To sunset
Whose needs
As well wants
Were very few
One morning
As the sun rose
Over the horizon
Birds chirping gaily
In the trees
Flowers swaying in the breeze
Out of nowhere
In the distance
One could hear the
Gathering of dust
Thundering sound of
the marauding hordes
As they rode through the streets
Putting our fellow Zoroastrians
To the sword
Swatting them like flies
Alas ! the land of Asho Zarathuhstra
From where we originated
Right and left
Were being decimated
There was raping pillaging
Raiding kidnapping
all around
All sorts of torture was
Was applied to strangle
These innocent people
What crime did they ever perpetuate?
The only sin they perpetuated
was being a Zoroastrian
The Zoroastrian community
Had lost of hope
In the darkness they did grope
Long last a saviour came along
His name Maneckji Limji Hataria
He was a social activist
Decided to ameliorate
The conditions of
Our fellow Zoroastrians
Free them from
The iron shackles
So that they could live
And breathe free!!
He toiled day and night
He left no stone unturned
Freeing every last Zoroastrian
He did not falter or cower
But had a spine and stood tall..
Cause in the end he knew
Ahura Mazda will be there
When the last tear drop falls
Choicest Happiness
Farida Bamji
June 27th 2021