They are the ashen ones. They are the extinguished - Poem by Joy Goswami
They are the ashen ones. They are the extinguished.
They are smouldering wood
Half-burned and buried under layers of slime
they have been escaping for ages.
Each second grows a hundredfold in passing
It's my job now to dig their beds
To tuck them in tenderly under sheets
under coverlets of mud
They are our mothers our fathers. I must find their bones
I must dig hundreds of graves holes bunkers I must
rummage through ages of sorrow anger ash and blood.
Comments about They are the ashen ones. They are the extinguished by Joy Goswami
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
- Still I RiseMaya Angelou
- The Road Not TakenRobert Frost
- If You Forget MePablo Neruda
- DreamsLangston Hughes
- Annabel LeeEdgar Allan Poe
- IfRudyard Kipling
- Stopping By Woods On A Snowy EveningRobert Frost
- Do Not Stand At My Grave And WeepMary Elizabeth Frye
- I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love YouPablo Neruda
- TelevisionRoald Dahl