This poem I wrote for my college wall magazine on the eve of our 60th Independence Day.I closed my eyes and asked myself if after so many years of independence, our motherland is happy with her sons...the answer was ...NO.
BATTERED BRUISED HURT
Battered bruised hurt,
Years and years of dirt,
Independent but abandoned
Weeping, Our Mother!
Weeping, My India!!
Crying for cover,
Hoping and praying,
For the sun to be once again glowing,
Upon Her;
Tears in her eyes,
Wrinkles on her face,
Her lips are dry,
She’s thirsty for some grace.
Her children gave her scars
Countless in number they are,
Endless the pain she bears,
She’s waiting for her cheers.
She smiles through her tears,
She laughs off her fright,
She still loves her children
And that can be seen in her eyes!
Hold her hand
Give a little hug,
Give her a smile,
Wipe off her tear!
She’s our beloved mother,
Battered bruised hurt,
Years and years of dirt,
Independent but abandoned
Weeping, Our Mother!
Weeping, My India!!
Crying for cover,
Hoping and praying,
For the sun to be once again glowing,
Upon Her;
Tears in her eyes,
Wrinkles on her face,
Her lips are dry,
She’s thirsty for some grace.
Her children gave her scars
Countless in number they are,
Endless the pain she bears,
She’s waiting for her cheers.
She smiles through her tears,
She laughs off her fright,
She still loves her children
And that can be seen in her eyes!
Hold her hand
Give a little hug,
Give her a smile,
Wipe off her tear!
She’s our beloved mother,
Let’s show a bit of bother, a bit of care .
No comments:
Post a Comment