Skip to main content

The rights of the silenced

What happens,
in the winning of a conquest?
What dwells in the victory of a name,
over the bloodied mutilations of your men?

The silence of a cut-throat,
staggering past the bombed,
in anticipation of a blast or a bullet,
or blazing fires in the camp of the wounded,

The pain of a blasted lith,
it's owner shedding tears of dread,
of his unthinkable morrow,
overcast with sorrow,

The fear of a suicide bomber,
prepared for his plight,
for you to fight for his rights,
after his body lies in a shamble,

The darkness of the blinded,
because of chemical components
overturning their vision of truth
into the prison of the dark,

The sagacious fear in me,
of your children's minds,
that shine pure, because of your lure,
may not endure your crude intent,

"What do you gain,
of their fear, the dark and their pain?
What do you conquer,
the rights of the silenced?"

*Dust thou art and,
*unto dust thou shall return,
with your name, fame and glory,
with your rights of your dead!



* The Holy Bible: Genesis 2:7 & Job 34:15



This post is a part of Indiblogger's IndiChange- Idiya

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Getting back to being Ms. Beautiful braid!

It was the time when my mom used to struggle for time. She would wake up early in the morning with her hair as beautifully braided as ever and I would be shook awake to have that traditional head massage with a mixture of hot coconut and castor oil with the extracts of sun-dried hibiscus, henna and fenugreek. After I sleepily shampoo my hair followed by the massage, my mom would pat it dry with a thin towel and would carefully part my hair into sections to try different types of braids on my curly but soft hair.

As she tamed my dense and curly hair into braids of every possible beauty, I would sit there bored with the palm of my hands supporting my cheek. In spite of lack of time, my mother made it a point to wake up ten minutes early everyday just to make time for the wonderful braids that her fingers weaved with my hair. After she finished with the styling, I would gaze at my own self in the mirror and brim at her with pride on my face.

I would say occasionally, "Maa, you can b…

FOUND

                                                                    Image: Internet
If you had missed the previous chapters of the story: Click here Chapter 1Chapter 2

CHAPTER 3


It was the fall again, they had gone for a stroll outside the university campus into the beautiful park where snowy trees surrounded the white spread and there were very few passers-by due to the freezing chill.
The two of them hovered around enjoying the beauty carpeted around them. Maureen had already gone down, working her gloved hands into the snowy layers. She started rolling a huge ice ball with a grin on her pink face. Steve looked at her dazed by the tinkle of her eyes and the jingle that her laughter spread in his heart.  The moist wind ruffled her blond hair, some of which fell onto her face like a wave onto the shores.
Steve just stood there with his hands folded, his lips curved into a mesmerizing smile and his eyebrows were arched in sheer amazement of what was happening to him that moment.   He felt…

Being humane

Every dawn dooms with wail


I never opine but in my daze,

For I am human, humane.

Image courtesy: Internet