Raped At The Time Of Drought Poem by Anil Kumar Panda

She walked like a ghost
In the chilling darkness of winter;
Singing to her herself an old lullaby
Her mother had sung years before;
She had thorns in her palms
And afraid of squeezing her breasts
To feed her child, a new born as small
As a bird and without a valid name;
The wolves have plundered
Her chastity inside the dark shack,
They positioned well to take her full
One by one as if waiting in a file;
They made festoons of her dress
Like a wedding was going on;
Under the limitless sky her sun is
Lost somewhere near the horizon,
Never to rise, never to lend its warmth.
She is dead.