Prakash Paulraj

(01/12/1991 / India)

Freedom That Never Tasted


At dawn, in my lawn,
A gentle breeze passes away,
When the rays show the way.
Every eyes stir up
And with a run the day lit up.

My sweet dove cooks the meal;
As the time goes to seal;
I swallow the curry in haste;
What an incredible taste!
No Words to say, When in such a bliss;
Could return only with a kiss.

Then my little doll
Stumbles to walk,
Comes to say 'goodbye'
With a flying kiss, I flee away.

On returning at dusk,
In pond all birds bask,
The sound of air, when their wings tear,
Pitches over the chirping sound;
as the females gather round.
The whistle of rover along the river,
All in muddle, pleasant to heed.
Is the day all we dream, indeed,
In a freedom country.

But,
The freedom that our children earn,
Is the death at dawn.
The freedom that given,
Crush the flowers of our women.
The place we dwell,
Is a heaven or hell,
Who cares? When our bodies are in grave.

The freedom that boundless
Is bonded with endless wounds.
Although, all we want
Is the freedom
To enjoy together as one.
For which we fight,
But the Sun is not at sight.

The lion roar can silent the tiger,
But not the truth.
Thank you all, Thank you.
All we ask is the freedom,
But you gift us the liberation from this world.

Submitted: Sunday, September 15, 2013
Edited: Monday, September 16, 2013
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Poet's Notes about The Poem

It is the pain of Tamil Eelam people who suffered in Srilanka civil war.

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