When Campuses Bleed

 

In halls once lit with learning's flame,

Now silence groans beneath the shame.

Where minds would bloom and futures rise,

Now banners tear the open skies.

The library's hush, once full of grace,

Is drowned beneath the slogans' chase.

Debates replaced with broken bones,

And laughter traded in for stones.

The desk where dreams would once begin,

Now bears the scars of deeper sin.

The chalk no longer writes the truth—

It draws a line: "Us" versus "You."

In every corner, colors clash,

A flag, a fist, a sudden flash.

No names are called, just sides are drawn,

And morning dies before the dawn.

The classroom door becomes a gate,

To choose between love or hate.

A slip of voice, a look, a word,

Can make one disappear, unheard.

Blood on steps, and quiet cries,

Stare from eyes that hope denies.

A photo on a hostel wall,

A candle dimmed, a name too small.

Leaders rise, then vanish fast,

Martyrs made — their stories passed.

But justice sleeps while speeches grow,

And mothers wait for truth to show.

What happened to the gentle call,

To question, dream, and rise for all?

What seed was crushed beneath the rage,

That bloomed in books, not war or cage?

Yet through the cracks, a pulse remains,

A voice that hums beneath the chains.

A whisper: “We were more than this,”

A plea wrapped tight in what we miss.

For even in this fractured place,

Where hope retreats, and fear has face—

There burns a spark we can’t erase,

A hunger for a safer space.

So let the stones be laid to rest.

Let wounds be seen, and truth confessed.

Let campuses not be battlefields,

But gardens where the spirit yields.