A Ripped Womb And Billion Sons Poem by Antony Terrence

A womb that bore a billion

Ravished by a ten

With her legs wide apart

Her chastity ripped apart

On a pyre of sons’ 'resilience'

Breaking jars of 'empty tolerance'

With candles lit in funeral

Gun shots ringing death bell

With shouts of Vande Madarem

That stifle her to calm.

Lay so pathetic, so hapless

Lips that kissed martyrs

Womb that bore valor

Breasts that suckled heroes galore

In hope, blood seeps and seeks

The valor long lost, of sons;

Eases their graves’ mortar

To walk her back from terror.