Sunday, October 2, 2016

to the Martyr Son - Jai Hind

The soil is moistened
With the tears of a mother
Whose son lies smeared with his cold blood far away.
The guns and the bombs go mute
With the reverberations of her heart beats, which wails
Resonating her love
For her martyred son,
Whom she had once wrapped in a woollen blanket to keep him warm ;
Now, lies cold and limp
On the bosom of the Mother Land.

Oh, Mother!
I am a coward, unlike your Son
and, so inept to console you.

Jai Hind.

Written in solidarity with Indian Soldiers.

copyright Ajay Pai 2016