These flowers of ours are dusty
and wilted. They're sent to you
from hostile, far away lands
pressed in old books, with smooth
leather covers, and gilded letters
so you won't notice the tears
the sadness, the homesickness,
the exile.
We were removed from our roots
once, all young and eager to fight
sons and daughters of a country
which always dared to stand up...
We've seen the flag covering the
coffins, the pages torn from books
the scars, and bleeding wounds on
the body of our nation,
and all this world we knew violently
falling apart.
Hi Agatha, The flowers of ours are dusty and wilted... All this world we knew violently Falling apart So much anguish contained in so little words. Words professing calamity, exuding emotions that are catastrophic. ....Bleeding wounds on the body of our nation.. As a person born in India, after the great divide-the partition of 1947-, I can imagine the agony.. In the post independence, post partition violence in India/Pakistan, over 100 million people were rendered homeless and at least 2.5 million died. That is what greed pays. All the oceans can not contain the tears caused by human being to other human beings. Good, powerful write Agatha; keep it up.
We were removed from our roots! ! Becsuse of the ways of mankind on earth. Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Hello dear Agatha Eliza, No sooner I read this piece of your work, I felt the same that the things are falling apart in most of the Countries all over the globe. Hard we see the faces blooming but at ease we find the gloomy in the eyes of multitude of destitute. I pray that we should all have peace again to see the flowers of ours blooming all over!