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A poignant poem by Kabir where he shows the futility of life as death is money and profit, exclusively for Different Truths.
Flares burning in mid air
Rain extinguishing the separated parts of fire
People slithering beneath them demand the spare
They sell the garments and others which are prior
There’s no one to point a finger
As the smoke unleashes from the rotten flesh
I ask, “Didn’t you feel to shoot me with that trigger?”
His dry lips moved, “From up above we all are trash”
Even in the rope of war and peace
The word ‘trash’ is there to unite us in enmity
We are enemy but the decider never meets
Before that screen everyone says, “I feel pity.”
“He didn’t kill me then, but he could kill me now!”
One who made this from that chair did this to us
Every moving second, my hand reaches the bow
What happens there, is just a wound full of puss
Our worry comes into a single place when we burn
Screams multiply with time & unite to shake the core
Darkness falls before the eye beneath the sun
It’s only then we forget enmity and yawn to roar
One day, the film directors would screen our war
Those who failed before death would be ignored
Money would be showed and then “Screening over”
Our death would die! Actors would be adored
Even today my land feels she would drink blood
When someone would utter “Them” and “Us”
She screams and screams, “Leave me! Leave my mud”
Who listens when separation resides in touch?
©Kabir Deb
Photos from the Internet
#Poem #Blood #Separation #Death #Futility #Money #DifferentTruths
