My Land by Ananya S Guha

Wounded is my land
hurts at every hill, valley
mountains, or in sultry plains
Even when a bird soars across
winged skies, it hurts
never know when it will plummet
down to seas or, deep deep gorges
..
Strange is my land
there are mosques, temples, churches
synagogues even
But it hurts
never know when blood
will splatter across their sacred walls
..
Historical is my land
when the plains rumbled with  battles
foreigners unsettled came to settle
there were wars and canons
but it hurts
you never knew who would win
who, lose and who the traitor!
..
Penurious is my land
but it hurts to see them
sleep by pavements after
selling their wares there
..
Uneducated is my land
little children don’t go to school
they sell, or steal or serve tea
And their parents beat them.
Even sell them in a growing
demand and supply market.
..
It hurts
to hurt
be hurt in my land
of so many seas
so many rivers
so many givers
so many takers
with the population
drowning in them.
..
River is my land
land  is  my land
sea  is   my land
ocean is my land
hill is my land
mountain is my land
valley is my my land
cold is my land
heat is my land
dust is my land
filth and hovel is my land
slum is my land
hunger is my land
dark circled eyes is my land
but with it’s every breath
I stagger across its straight
and winding roads
searching for a  name.
Its name.
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