Algeria,1962, Just Prior To Independence - Poem by Ananta Madhavan
If the watcher of the skies,
Emboldened by the plea of wings,
Scars the frank destiny of strangers,
In our diverse tensions, who are we
To prevent their share of hope?
No mercy lingers on the leaves we burnt,
No misery survives, for we are done
To language whose otherness we know
In a 'bare bodkin'; if charged with such
As hope to hope, we shall not withstand.
Our means are empty, our blunt
Arms strike with insufficient love.
Even now our hate is as the late
Afternoon, drained of bright hope,
Weak with the weakness of the sick.
And yet my anger moves within me,
A spiral which I do not care to curb.
So shall the passionate have form
And the fierce sun parch the sands of hope.
- - -
Poet's Notes about The Poem
1962, before France and the parties involved came to a ceasefire and
the ending of colonial rule.
Comments about Algeria,1962, Just Prior To Independence by Ananta Madhavan
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You