Guru Ji, please take me back to the times when Singhs became one under one nishaan sahib
Guru Ji, please take me back to that land and those beautiful rivers lakes and streams that are slowly drying up
Guru Ji, bring back that Bani and Amrit that was inside of me, that is also drying up
Guru Ji, please take me back to those carefree Singhs, so fearless and brave, so mighty and devout

Guru Ji take me back, to those waters where so many bodies were dropped, drowned, floated bloated upwards
Guru Ji take me back, to that dirt and grass, where blood spilled and the screams of pain were echoing
beautiful
pain
empty
powerful
powerless
surrender
in Your Will
Please take me back, to those fields, bedrooms, villiages, complexes, where sharp pain was absorbed by brave warrior chests
Please take me back Guru Ji
Please take me back

Please take me back to when the kirtan was through the roof, beyond explanation, continuous vibrations
Please take me back, to when the katha was fearless, all were ready to give their life in an instant…
although everyone wanted to live
To see the dawn break,
Even rose buds, like warriors, are most beautiful when
lying on the ground

Guru Ji take me back… Please take me back
Please take me back, to when everyone was flowing with warrior spirit
Please take me back, to the times when everything everywhere was pure kesri

Guru Ji, take me back to when the land shook, with the encompassing footprints of lions
Please take me back to those murderers that suffered at the hands of their own poor actions
Take me back to the sweet air, dripping with sacrifice and amrit, take me back to that tender touch of Rain, falling on bodies, beautiful, as their souls escape

Guru Ji, take me back to when my hands never failed from doing righteous deeds
My hands were once so strong, cracked, hard and dry
Guru Ji, take me back, to when my inside became hard as well, yet so much softness and beauty penetrated my soul

Take me back, to those lakes and lands, those fields and marshes, those valleys and alleys
Please take me back, to those shaking cities, once full of sin and corruption, were being wiped out by Light

Guru Ji
It was our reality
It was our life
It was our very breath
It was your Panth
It was your grace

Guru Ji take me back to the fields of Mehta, where even amongst such heated violence, peace and flower scents travelled timelessly
Guru Ji take me back, to the sun shining purely, radiating the Singhs’ lungs, like their Naam and Bani

Guru Ji take me back, to all those divine Gursikhs
as without them I am lost
Guru Ji take me back
to 1984
Guru Ji take me back
to Punjab
Guru Ji take me back
to the fields of flowers
For that
is where I belong,
Gursikho,
that
is where We belong.

Submitted by: Amar Kaur