Through A Peek-Hole Poem by indira babbellapati

From high up on the hill
Goddess Durga oversees
The three intercepting canals
And the mighty river
Tears of an ancient
Personal sorrow
Flow into the river...

The surrounding hills
Jutting into the river
Stood mute witnesses
To those dark shady nights
Absorbing the muffled
Helpless innocent protestations

Why did the Goddess
Prefer to turn a deaf ear
Contrary to her image
Of squelching the evil?
Night after night
The much favourite sky
Would take an awkward bow...

Decades of flow
Didn't seems to change anything!
Everything's just the same;
The canals and the river and the Goddess
Only the hills look a tad arid
The sky continues to cling to the hills
But the tears of a personal sorrow
Now flow into the sea