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Printer Friendly Version

Children Of Forlorn

By Sethu Nezeer

19 December, 2012

Armed with diktats, they stormed into the rally
Latti’s wrecked havoc, ever whipping, never weary,
She lunged into the downing volley,
Alas! What fury!

Clutching her and dragging her,
They cuffed her in fetters,
She dint weep, nor did she deter,
Poised and firm like a lunging warrior
Her eyes neither blinked nor did her lips muttered

She looked at me askance,
One fiery glance,
Fore she rammed and bled into the van,
My heart fluttered,
For a sign, I awaited,
Not a word did she utter,
The doors swung and stabbed the silence with a clutter

She has seen so much penury,
So much grief and so much pain,
Not a word, no remorse nor did she ever complain
To clamant in grief, I felt lame,
When misery becomes a daily chore,
From lamenting and mourning, you refrain

She sang to me every night
Folklore of valor and might,
I presume she augured this day,
For she sang me verses
Of the celestial powers of the Ocean Fay

Yes! I did cry and shiver
Yes! I did tremble with fear,
Yes! I wanted her near,
But in the ripples of the waves
Her dauntless prayer undulates
“Son! The dawn of struggle is here,
All the loses you must bare,
Fight alongside your brothers,
Fight the searing fear,
Orphaned by force,
The hapless adolescence you must spare”

I wiped my tears
And in me I forced the valiance to flare
Without an afterthought I did dare!

Armored with hope,
Braced like men,
We fight through dusk and dawn,
Despaired childhood grows on apathy,
We neither lament nor for losses can we afford to moan

Abound sacrifices we make out here,
Myriad risks we take out here,
We lose, we fight, and we endure with all might
For food, for livelihood, for land, to abstain plight
No! It’s not for dignity or pride
What good are these material notions?
When you are bared of your rudimentary rights?

They steal from us our inherited share,
And label our ire the reactionary flare,
They detain our mothers,
They conspire and collude,
To sabotage our crusade
Truth, they conceal and smother

For liberty
For progeny
The children of forlorn
Shall rise as men of valor
And fight till the last blade of grass
The last fish of the blue
The last breath of our soul
Is forced to still

Sethu Nezeer is young poet and journalist from Kerala. He can be reached at sethunazeer@gmail.com




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