You wake to the light, while I embrace my death.
You go onto the way of light
I to the dark while the dogs bark.
You meet your girl and mine busy weaving
...
Oh Ripples! You catch my fancy,
Hold me still while my boat-sway
Rips the silvery plane so glossy
Under the smiling sun.
...
A Ripped Womb And Billion Sons
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.