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An evocative poem by Dr Molly, exclusively for Different Truths, wherein despite calls for peace, poetic efforts to liberate humanity from inhumanity, and widespread protest against war, a disheartened question remains.
Of what avail? the hues and cries against war, the clamour for peace, the ceaseless poetic efforts at squeezing out the humane from the brazen, frozen mane of the inhuman... who listens? just a few croaking, communing frogs covert in hides of their own... croaking, croaking... it falls flat on the mighty leviathans, states, governments, vengeful, blindfolded insaniacs who vehemently pursue their dastardly killing act... this killing spree was ingrained in the human psyche when nomadic groups of yore spread, fought and killed the other for survival of the fittest... times have gone, but the killing, destroying game continues in roaring fury of greed to dominate... no, not for survival but for power politics, to establish its domain crushing everything beneath... who cares for the bruised child traumatised by smashed, charred bodies of his parents, endlessly weeping for his Mom and for his favourite toy that was lost in the rush... No! sentiments are meant for weaker stuff like poets, or the ordinary who bear the brunt or the ranting philosopher or priest Oh, of course for those demagogues, opportunistic, who makes the crocodile tears? The game continues uninterrupted... It thunders! it blasts! impervious... all cat cries, cuckoo calls, pitted against against the impenetrable!
Picture design by Anumita Roy
