In front of the firing squad

firing squad

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

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