Sunday, October 2, 2016

to the Martyr Son - Jai Hind

The soil is moistened
With the tears of a mother
Whose son lay smeared with his cold-blood
The guns and the bombs went mute
With the reverberations of her heart beats, which wails
Resonating her love
For her martyr son,
Whom she had once wrapped in a woollen blanket
To insulate from the cold;
Now, lay bare and limp
On the bosoms of the Mother Land.

Oh, Mother!
I am a coward, unlike your Son
and, so inept even to console you.

Jai Hind.

Written in solidarity with Indian Soldiers.

copyright Ajay Pai 2016

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