bulldozer demolition Afreen Fatima

I can see your ribs cracking
and the bones bleeding within.
Your eyes are numb
tears frozen.

I can see your hands shaking
your legs heavy.
Your heart is pounding
breath rushing.

I can see you standing alone
watching a bulldozer ravaging
memories, warmth and prayers,
the favorite tea pot
ammus’s prayer room.

I can see the tumbling of your abbu’s
flower pot and the heavy boot squashing
the flower petals.
The books you love most
are being turned into
clods of mud and grains of sand.

I can see you standing bewildered
which one to save and how,
every single thing is so close to heart.

I can see you watching
the India you love being bulldozed.
The monsters are clapping and the noise
of the silence of your friends
throttling your voice.

I can see you standing with
still a tongue intact.

About the poem: This poem is in protest against the bulldozing of the house of anti CAA activist Afreen Fatima.

Moumita Alam is a poet from West Bengal. Her poetry collection The Musings of the Dark is available on Amazon

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One Comment

  1. Liaquath Mirza says:

    Martin Niemoller’s poem gets relived on a daily basis in these parts of the world and yet we all go on with our lives as if its no big deal since they have not come for us. After all we are safe because of our position of privilege, be it because we are from majority flock or have caste privilege or that we are geographically far away living in less communally charged areas. We forget that ultimately they will be coming for us. Class divides do not matter. Even the binary of majority – minority does not matter. You may agree with them….even support them on one thousand things but one thousand first disagreement is enough for the trigger happy trolls and their ruling elite patrons to come gunning for you, ably aided by law makers and law enforcers. Depths of democracy.

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