We just lie down,
the sand rolls
around our bodies,
we have no home,
earth is our only home.
we look at vehicles
that rumble the
monotone of our lives
on those fresh roads,
and within my throat,
fire, crude fire burns,
over the coal of flesh
and the oil of blood,
tamil blankets our
tongues, the language that
once upon a time,
was brought from the
cooling river that flowed
within us and we
sprayed waves of fresh water,
but now, we spit
fireballs, out of raging
volcano that erupts within,
on seeing those who
betrayed our land, to
distort tamil and call
another country, another
continent, theirs. the
government welcomes them,
houses them, but we,
what about us?
is this the first punishment?
or is it the last, as
we hoped? even curses
are incarcerated within our
bodies, as we just remain
empty cups that wait
to be filled, thwarted
repeatedly with dew drops
of empty promises that
fall in like thunder
showers, repeatedly. we
think, just think that
fate wants our bodies
to be burnt in discomfort,
and we remain blank
papers torn by the
wrathful pen's sharp nibs...........
fine write...........the last punishment..............well pictorized.........
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
nice piece Nithya...but i hope they wont format out brains that time :)