Thursday, June 23, 2016

Ananya S. Guha- A Poem


Flood Times

Mother every day this time
of the year, the storm raging, 
gnashing is a repast, folly to 
many and the rains beat even 
the meteorological forecasts. 
Thunder and storm 
Thunder and storm. 
Cyclones in a neighbouring country
lash bodies, floods ensnare children, men 
and women. Mother everywhere the floods sink into 
an island, as houses are smothered into whirlpool 
of waters. 
We avoid the looks of guilt. What can we do
but with flailing hands pray for weather beaten 
souls, even as the newspapers ask for money 
to be donated for respite.
Who are those suffering
Who are those climbing trees 
to make homes
Who are those delving deep into hearts
that do not exist? 

 
 

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