Monday, August 13, 2007

I’ve the Sword of Non-Violence

My bent heavy head is terribly aching- do I need a painkiller?
The blood inside has turned into a sphere of rotten meat-
I can’t find a scavenger to be indebted after I die-
What is it- a habitual nightmare or the mood of a sufferer
Who has dwelled in the darkest dungeon ever known to man,
Encircled himself with a flock of thousand groaning hyenas!
Arms being coupled together with the strongest iron-
No hope does he possess to witness the rising sun again!
I’m that tormented living matter on the verge of death-
Still scorching air coming out my nose- it’s a trouble for me;
I don’t wish my heart to beat now, and wits must not act-
I’ve to start dodging to heaven, this time I can’t be late.
My limbs are no more my servant; they are not my slave,
I’m a kind old master freed them from theirs years bondage-
Light of my life will fly to God’s home to turn into His angel.
But no scavengers around me, where to dispose off my flesh?
I’m unable to die within this black cage, once show me the sky,
Take me out of this abstract hell once, let me feel the air,
Let me breathe to fill up my lungs for the last time-
Else, I’m a tough lover of open earth and I would never die.
I know this is my last gamble and so I can’t lose the game,
Let my carcass rot here; I’m ready to take up that pain-
Can’t compromise with the tyrant who enslaved me so long,
I won’t accept my crush and mess up my final dream.
Iron shackle seems thinnest glass wall now; it never was so fragile!
But I was longing for a sedative, now don’t know why-
I want the strongest venom now for inflicting me more pain;
I’m changing to a skinless fighter determined to die in the earth’s isle.
My enlightened free soul will be punishing that cruel oppressor
Who have raped my golden ages and made my treasures decay
And pushing me down to the unfathomable layer of black soil,
Not taking his route, without turning to be a bigger tormentor,
I’ll take all the means of non hostility and highlight before him:
Teach my co-sufferers what freedom of mind really means-
His whip can’t stop me preaching, nor can his framed laws do,
He’ll be a shocked new man then appearing to have lost his limb.
He will turn a man from his present beastly form in my light,
He’ll kneel down for compassion before all of our radiant stature
Will be ready to give us something, which then we wouldn’t take-
What freedom will he give us? We are at a much greater height!
Now the fight will not be with he and me but with thousands
Of my fellow victims raging for revenge having lost their epoch-
But my guidance they would never deaf-ear, I’m their torch.
We’ll forgive our sinner; we’ll lend him our rusty chained hand.
Tears of regret will purify his soul, make him work for humanity-
I’ll put my hand over his wet shoulder, talk few words of console
His sore will be much deeper than what I had; I’ll drop my last sigh.
The triumph is mine, harmony prevails, Gandhian spirit won’t ever die…



- littleWriter

3 comments:

  1. it really feels nice to read something of such high quality aftr a long time...it's really a beautiful pc of work..as a creative writer i m rating u very high..kp it up my fren..hope 2 c some more such beautiful posts in future 2..tk cr

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  2. Thanks buddy, but it hurts on falling from a taller tree... So... :)

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  3. Yeah you are right, Gandhian spirit can never die!

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