When slavery Percolates
Deep in pores of our body
It becomes curriculum
Of our life making our living
An endless funeral
Then it saunters in our blood
Like the river Brahmaputra
We move through corridors
Of Impotent powers and feel
As if we won the heaven
With alms of a post of minister
And few Ashram schools to our kith
This beggarly feeling pushes us
Into the abyss of nothingness
One who accepts slavery as destiny
Is more lethal than HIV, Coz he rots
Every possibility of rationalization
He spreads epidemic thralldom
Far and wide
Anyway, what is slavery?
Is it an object?
If burned or buried,
It can be removed away
No way! Not so!
Slavery is a condition of your mind
Framed purposefully by a few
Or an ugly child of our ignorance
I guess there are two ways
To do away with it
The slave must either destroy himself
Or the source of slavery
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem