BS ( / Balasore, Orissa, India)

On Hatred

The dew has enveloped my house
Like a sheet of ice,
There is pin dropp silence inside
All my dear ones are asleep.

My little daughter’d get up
And start talking to her parrot,
I’d ask her to talk quietly
Since a sensor may pick up the voice.

Outside, away from my home
The buildings have been blasted;
Scores of people, old and young
Are being carried away;
Some to the hospitals
And others to the river ghat.

No one had slept
Even with the slightest idea
That they’d not see a sun rise again.

The hatred is being washed
In pools of blood.

I feel still safe
As light has gone out
And a veil of dew covering us,
My parrot has not got up
To wish good morning to my daughter.

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