Mother's Cry Poem by Bishnupada Sethi

At the midnight,
When everyone is deep asleep,
A shrill voice is the one
One can hear from beyond the lake.

In a place interior in the forest,
Her sobs rise in crescendo,
For she knows
Her sons will fight again
To prove who is great!

She shaped these men,
From when they knew nothing.
Like the buds in her garden,
She wished them to bloom in the spring.

Yet!
They spill their blood
Unmindful of her pleadings.
As if, they have grown old
Enough to be mad!

How could she tolerate,
For she is a mother
As her sons are dying before her
Which is sure to happen again tomorrow.
Who could console her?
For she is the mother earth
And she knows the pain
Of bearing and rearing her children.