By Abhijit Bhattacharya
The face with blood smear
Eyes reflecting dread and fear
She was born alone
In a womb unknown.
They were reckless; fast
Some prosaic; some recast
Her sense of response; peace
Swabbed with distortion; crease.
She knew she had to fight
A war – their plight
Their pregnant thoughts
Untangling those silky knots.
Prostituted avenues and drains
Losses everywhere without any gains
She was born alone
In a womb unknown.
The tides rose high up in the air
She stood still; scared to bare
They climbed up her flesh
To coincide; just to mesh.
She stood there; hapless
Down there was her crumpled dress
Trampled upon; booted; crushed
Her voice silenced and hushed.
They ravaged her fort
Killed her ardent soldiers
They pillaged her treasure
For their need; for their pleasure.
The war was lost; silhouettes left in grey
She wept in silence; waiting for another day
She was born alone
In a womb unknown.