Here’s a soulful protest poem against violence, gun culture, and, by extension, senseless wars, by Amrita, in Different Truths.
The face of Vengeance,
Ubiquitous as dust
On a hot summer day,
Strutted blatantly down
The corridors of life
Never looking you straight in the eye;
Never pausing to reconsider,
Its retaliation.
You, the unsuspecting
Target of its design
Walked fearlessly,
Believing justice did not let you down.
And when of a sudden
You lay pinned to the ground,
It was all too late.
Why does bile
Churn in the gut
And spew chaos
On a million innocents?
Why does the power
To wreak havoc
Thrill the blood?
Why does normalcy
Appear pathological?
And annihilation the only option?
Vengeance was born
On a dark desperate night
Deep in the bowels
Of a godless people
Who had bartered their soul
For a soulless euphoric high!
Where the brain had been
Carved out and crushed to thoughtless rubble-
Where eyes, vacant pale
Gave nothing out-
Where detached limbs
Moved on other volitions-
Where a single hideous purpose
Coiled its tentacles in
Gut-wrenching knots
Impossible to escape-
Till their quarry
Became their grave.
Picture design Anumita Roy
By
By
By
By