lovita j r morang

Rookie (16th july 1976 / arunachal pradesh.assam, india)

For The Wounded Womb - Poem by lovita j r morang

There he is like the ocean
Holding an empty shell
Empty shell filled with
God’s food
That every lovable things on earth would live
a day more to taste.
It’s not the food you eat has love
It’s not love you have is adored
Palate of life
We mix it with pain and pleasure.
Tears, sweat, blood…
all ooze out from the vein of Hard work…
How can things unseen and invisible
Can be so true
Can be so rooted
here I see this beautiful earth
everything merged through these invisible forces
like a blind man see the colours of life
and weave his own colour…
red through green, green through blue
burns the angst for not being able to see…
but creates these are the colours he creates…
and lay before us the senses to feel…
Blooming into every man’s beauty
Farer man sing evening songs
We wait for another morning…

I licked through the plate of food
Gulping down my thirst and hunger
Just like a hungry begging human on street
I lived for the food that comes from some distant land
And an unknown lover make it
And an unknown lover taste it
A fistful of food…
Opens her empty hands
She lives
She learns to live
She learns to eat
The passion of eating through
What I yearn to see one day
Your hands feeding a hungry mother
In the corner of a silenced street.
Cuddling the child of love
Heals a mother’s wounded womb…
Here he is like the ocean…
Holding the empty shell
Empty shell filled with
God’s food…


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Poem Submitted: Saturday, August 28, 2010



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