The father saw the body
of his dead son
and told his other sons
not to wipe away the blood
staining his son's face granite-stone
not to change his clothes
soiled by spray of bullets
And so into the streets
they carry his lifeless body
the crowds pour as wildfire
ignited by sudden fuel-oxygen mix-
there is lust to break bones
there is passion to avenge his name
words chanting of hate
grow out of their skin pores
until the sea of faces
becomes tar, earth dripping of blood
field of silent red poppies-
Somewhere in small town
a woman sits mending shirts
In solitude, she holds on to a prayer
and then lights a candle
as she goes back to her chores -
paring vegetables, cleaning, repairing things-
Her hand musses an orphan's hair
then another
then another
whose faces light up
like spring buds, dewy with gentlest of rain-
Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Hosted by Abhra Pal ~ A time for light amidst the darkness around us ~
The endless cycle as one thing spurs another. While other cycles have a little hope
ReplyDeleteBeautiful ray of hope you leave for me here - I just heard the news that the suspect in this killing was arrested, some relief at least.
ReplyDeleteI really like the contrasts between the three stanzas really creating the real heart in the turn from the violence of the second to the last stanza with its hope and tenderness... The use of silent poppies to me gives a reference to war.. Really will done I think..
ReplyDeleteWow, so many emotions going so quickly - like a tornado ripping through me. I agree with Björn - the contrast is awesome. I particularly enjoyed the tornado of emotions ending so softly and serenely.... Taken as a piece of art I would say this is quite beautiful...
ReplyDeletewe all fight this in our own way...and there is more than one way...fighting fire with fire...only makes more fire...I am not saying it is unnecessary at times...but I do think riots and such are opportunists many times just looking for a reason to loot and destroy...
ReplyDeleteviolence begets violence. Your final stanza shows us how we should react.
ReplyDeleteI like how you give another way to fight the darkness and the description of the faces of the orphans as they are given love is very touching and inspiring. I forget who said it, but there is a quote, A candle loses nothing by lighting another.
ReplyDeleteI never like violence, really is something I can understand.
ReplyDeleteI hope we have more candles!!
From dark to darker--oh what amazing bloody images--and then one candle brighter than all the rest Telling contrast. Would all would listen.
ReplyDeleteYou have captured the futility of blood inciting hatred and more blood. I love the contrast with the quiet presence of the woman lovingly doing what she can to spread peace. Beautifully done.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful answer to the insanity of violence...thank you, Grace!
ReplyDeleteGrace, this is a VERY moving poem!
ReplyDeleteI really like the contrast you paint in this, Grace. I'm not sure why, but the woman made me think of someone like Mother Teresa who made a difference in simple ways but created an upheaval of love.
ReplyDeletewhose faces light up
ReplyDeletelike spring buds, dewy with gentlest of rain-
That made me think about the pictures of young children carrying rifles and being taught hate by parents and other adults. Why would a parent ever choose to instill hate - it is tragic. What a contrast with your words.
I like the gentle, respectful and yet very powerful way you tackled this thorny issue, Grace. Your ending on a positive note makes me a little hopeful.
ReplyDeleteLovely juxtaposition from hopelessness, rage, & chaos to a single person making a difference; more like her, please, need to rise out of the tar & thorns. You touched on a lot quickly, cleverly. I feel that I swung a wide scythe at the issues, without the sweetness of options & solutions; nice work.
ReplyDeleteThe cycle of vengeance serves no useful purpose. And yet life goes on. Nice take on the prompt today. Peace, Linda
ReplyDeleteA greater love of revenge is love of orphans left over by revenge.. if only the orphans can speak a refrain to remake a way.. for the singing against the vicious cycle of hate... where love becomes orphan and hate becomes beloved child of love.....
ReplyDeleteVery, very beautiful.
ReplyDeleteThe sea of poppies evoke the image of bloodshed... it is painful and oddly reminds me of Jallianwala Bagh Massacre.
ReplyDeleteThe tender ending gives us hope that if you blow a single candle, a hundred more would be lit to shoo the darkness away.
Beautiful.
-HA
A sound of light and optimism in a sometimes very bleak world. Well done, Grace. Thank you for sharing. Have a wonderful week!
ReplyDeleteEvents are collective and personal; the father's grief is his own, the rage belongs to the crowd; and the mender in the final stanza acts in the only response available to all of us: to fill the emptiness, the hole torn by events, back in. Really fine.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful. I love how artfully you describe two scenes of contradictory human behavior. We have a choice. Thank you Grace.
ReplyDeletesuch power to create hatred...or equally to show love. Nice contrast between the 2 scenes
ReplyDeleteI thank you for that final stanza - the hope of light and peace
ReplyDeleteWow...the contrast you build, Grace, it's powerful!
ReplyDeleteNever answer violence with violence. Ever...
ReplyDeleteThe third stanza was an unexpected blessing of hope shining through the darkness.
ReplyDeleteThe first stanza really hit hard here. The depth of morose is beautiful as is the hope that you leave with us in the end.
ReplyDelete~Prajakta
Oh yes dear Grace we do so love to make orphans--no one thinks about that though as long as they "win."
ReplyDeletewe live in trying times. a darkly beautiful pen ~
ReplyDeleteEmotive and poignant. An empathetic articulation of cruelty and kindness - beautifully penned.
ReplyDelete