Poem About The Shanty Of A Woman- Labor Set On Fire By The Land Mafia Poem by Lajpat Chawla

Poem About The Shanty Of A Woman- Labor Set On Fire By The Land Mafia

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My heart aches as the Sun gallops away slowly to his abode,
Smoke in shape of a human body ascends from a distant road.
A woman hiding her face below her palms, cries near her node.
She labored, she made the building, she worked for the high rise.

The burning salvo who triggered the fire is known as rich and wise.
Her painful wail ruptures my ribs, like a pointed arrow,
The little tissue in my chest bleeds, like a wounded sparrow.
The smoke converts to clouds and gathers in my burning eyes,
The tears flow, as a poem trembles on my lips, with silent cries.

The judge and the jury on earth may not do to him any harm,
The devil who triggered the fire has such a big arm.
The weeping damsel, I know, the story in another form will repeat
They will stay where they are and you will have to retreat.

Wednesday, April 29, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: sorrow
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
It is about a woman labor that worked for the builder and stayed in a shanty a little away on a patch of land along with about a dozen labor families. The land mafia, which wanted to grab the land, sends his ruffians who put the slum to fire no sooner than the labor return from the daily grind.
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Bharati Nayak 20 October 2018

So pathetic a story - - - -the story repeats- - You have painted the picture so poignantly - -Let me quote- - - The smoke converts to clouds and gathers in my burning eyes, The tears flow, as a poem trembles on my lips, with silent cries. The judge and the jury on earth may not do to him any harm, The devil who triggered the fire has such a big arm. The weeping damsel, I know, the story in another form will repeat They will stay where they are and you will have to retreat.

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