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This Day in 1941
This day so many years ago when saffron flowed to green and cross and crescent entwined in natural bliss, you my mother and he for ever, discovered love in my country.
Today the Bishops in Gandhi's land are weeping, for Christ's love they say cannot be shackled it must be shared.
While in cold steel's cruel town so near where I was born, incinerators burn and children die in the desert Prophet's name, and Rama the gentle squirrel king,
But you blessed father I remember, the shade of our house was softer glowing; for in our blood the black stone of Abraham with Aryavartas forest orange flame and shepherd cross of Nazareth by sacred Jordan's side, will live in love and light my moments of sightless night.
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