Progression Of An Elegy

A poem is coming;
oozing through a tiny opening
of the block —

a bullet hole
from the left to the right hemisphere
in the skull of this Waziristan child.

A poem is coming
wrapped in a blood-stained sheet
upheld in a charpoy
over the shoulders of the bereaved
of a drone strike;

is coming,
screaming to be heard,
staggering under crimson curlicues,
intruding onto the blank peace,
of your apathy.


8 thoughts on “Progression Of An Elegy

    1. reality is mostly unpleasant to the extent that we consciously keep our conscience oblivious to it.

      Currently I do not know of a place where I can try and get it published but I’m content as long as this blog is doing it for me.

      Thank you 🙂

    1. I’m much acquainted with chowk but it has become a real mud-slinging place, of late. I’ve posted it in the ilog section over there, though.

      Thanks for the encouragement 🙂

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s