written by: Arun Dash
Wouldn’t you dither, O Death,
When you curtail the destined days
Of my innocent kids, and
Snatch them away from me, for good,
For my fatal folly?
Wouldn’t your hands shiver,
When you smother the life
Of those tiny tots
Who He sent me through my blood
For a purpose yet undiscovered?
Wouldn’t your conscience
Pierce you when you
Mete out final punishment
To such promising souls
Who may have astounded you
Someday by winning over you?
And, wouldn’t you be content
By devouring me – the ripened fruit – instead,
Leaving aside the buds to bloom and
Effuse their aroma all around?
My remnant days
With those indelible, sweet,
Sad memories of my kids –
Those tender walks, the dashed hopes;
Those sweet smiles, the unfulfilled dreams –
Now dictate me to a life
Far more cursed than that in Hell.
Death, be not so brutal ever
For, we live in our kids and
When you loot them
From the hapless us,
All that’s left is a moving corpse –
A heavy mass of futile flesh
Burdening the mother earth.
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