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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

 

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