As your people rip
Your breast they fed on
Bleeding you to death
As your children
Emaciated, moan in agony
Like the dead leaves when trampled on
Wail...
As the skewer is nailed into your flesh
To be eaten bit by bit
With the wine of your blood aside
Wail my Mother,
Wail...
Hoping a son worthy
May conduct your funeral
And a mournful dirge
Breaks the silence of your wail no more..
Yoga
07/13/2011 (been very disturbed by the latest Mumbai blasts).
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