Thy
glasses now gather dust, that once gave us clear vision,
Your
woven dreams, a fashion, which then adorned the nation,
Your
idol, a weapon now crazy, ideals so selfishly chosen,
Morals
decorate the walls, essence conveniently forgotten.
Your
words, now a caged artwork, which shook confinement mighty,
Quotes
stud the chattering that once roared the skies lofty,
We
lost your hard-earned sovereign, in sheer ignorance and frenzy,
We
made a mere brand out of you, to quench our thirst, nasty.
You
lived the sacrifice until death, we just chant definition,
Utterly
ashamed we are, even to submit a confession,
Trapped
we are in a quagmire, leeches sucking the nation,
Help
us, O Souls Supreme, bless us with reincarnation.
■ Death Anniversary of Mahatma Gandhi
(Select lines from my English poetry book)
*****
