I watch you from afar, you stand
with your back against a wall,
and a firing squad in the front!
The first shot is fired…
…but no instant death,
It was at your name!
The second shot also doesn’t kill,
it was at your attire!
Next one was
at your meal on the table!
And the next one at
your schools of learning.
The next one was
at your house,
another one
at your land and
still another at your living.
One at
your faith,
and one at your
abode of God!
one at your
culture,
one at your
identity,
one at
your respect,
one at
your honour,
and one at
your motherland and
one at your soul!
As you wait for that final bullet
from an invisible firing squad,
the last beats of your heart give out a
a muted cry
to the voiceless gallery
‘ Have mercy My Lord…
grant me at least the
right to kill me’!’
As I, in helpless horror,
watch you being dismembered,
the scream echoes
from deep within me.
Together we dissipate
into nothingness
to merge
and reemerge as
one giant fist
to silence the guns.
Jayashree Thotekat is a poet from Kerala
