Does the blemished
white rose of their hopes,
appear like the pale face
of tattered memories —
stark and ghost-like?
Does the appearance
of an unfeasible dawn,
drug them back
to hostile sleep —
persistent as ever,
abusing their weary dreams?
In all the four seasons;
since decades long —
with startling suddenness,
sons of the soil have disappeared,
besieged by the ruthless power
of Gadaffi and his inner circle.
Though, for me,
March has always been a Spring-month,
I no longer feel the touch of Spring —
watching on my TV screen,
the remorseless tyrant threatening!
In March — how many more will perish!
Dubai
3rd March 2011
Geeta Chhabra
