Slipping
- Jan 2, 2020
- 1 min read
Poetry
(A ghazal for Jallianwala Bagh)
The elephant – poached – his feet, slipping.
Tears fall with his tusks– heartbeat, slipping.
The sound of safari truck engines hum,
In the mirror our gaze (defeated), slipping.
Ride in the chariot, invade the monsoon!
Weep for me before the sweet, slips.
Blood-stained well, washed by lost cries.
The right to speak, now slipping.
Was it He who sent you to kill?
Morals– once met with deceit, are slipping
Divine right conjured from illusioned sight…
Remember: ego peaks, before slipping.
Anagha, your name twists in foreign mouths,
Do not forget before your fate, starts slipping.
Commentaires