Longing to be absorbed
by peace –
even the land mines buried
in the turbulent sands
of time: weep.
Uselessness of death
is terrible –  
When those that are breathing,
cannot clear the dear corpses
of their dead ones,
lying in the ruined debris.


Beaten by different worlds,
that vigorously pronounce: hate towards hatred,
What fate are we all entangled in?
Beyond the routine illuminations
of my day-to-day dreams –
I smell the revengeful gun powder
out of an angered gun,
in my morning tea.


In the ruptured wombs of those tactical
mountain caves,
the taste of revenge sleeps.
Compared to the situation,
the caves are too small to hold
such bitterness, forever.
Meanwhile, on the pounded uncalm soiled soil,
Where once bloomed with song,
the blush of pomegranates…
dark and heavy lamentation lies.


A whole generation has been bled.

Heads bent.
Spirit held by chains.
Men, women, children –
all stripped of dignity and days,
by the so-called regimes.


Was this the people’s decisive choice?
To learn so well,
to live as a dismembered nation!
Whatever may come to pass – 
Why, why am I a captive?
Captured by their deprivation!
Which logical forces, free-thinkers,
will prevail to bring upon our planet: Peace? I ask.

Geeta Chhabra


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