Wednesday, December 2, 2009

Crisis


[The poem was formerly published with Authspot ]

Just let the day pass,

and let the moon rest,

in the night's lap.

To give you hopes,

of thousands of stars.

The day will take away with it,

the rain and flaming sun.

Your bread might be wet,

from the lack of roof.

Your hearth might be damp,

and there might only be smoke.

Your children might scream in-

the sermon of hunger;

in its metamorphosis:

void in front of the eye holes.

And your wife's breasts might stick to bone,

as if your husband's time has gone.

Then you are about to have -

a gleam of truth;

It lacks that last bit of potion,

to save some lives: love;

the invaluable currency.

The world has gone crazy in growth!

Let the day pass.




6 comments:

Tarun Mitra said...

Superb...jst let one survive one moment

ANULAL said...

Thank you so much for your words, Tarun.

Terri said...

It rips ones heart out to see and hear of such suffering and living conditions. And yet it continues generation after generation.

Well written Me Ho.

ANULAL said...

Thank you Tia.

Haddock said...

Thats a good candid photograph

ANULAL said...

Thank you Haddock for your comment, but the photograph tells something else other than an unseen sight- The predicament of a mother with her children...

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