Show Time!

It is a show of cameras.
By the elements of our speeches,
We practise: Peace.
As precious lives
are betrayed,
and negotiations run out dry—
dismantling our shaken beliefs...
By gun shots!
We hear words rhyming around:
Peace!

Our savage acts,
roll out countless deaths;
unsung, not all die,
and those that survive,
are empty skulls—
brain-dead, stone-deaf,
divided between you and me.
Oblivious, now,
To our formula, spreading:
Peace.

In our sacred homes,
we dig graves
for newer forms—
drawing, sketching: news-events’—
motley, gruesome scenes.
Let leaders, beggars, statesmen,
householders, intellectuals, anyone!
Carry on—
the way we have carried on.
Our Desperate Show of Peace.

We Are Practicing: Peace!

2000

Geeta Chhabra