Seventy Years Of Freedom by Ananya S Guha

Mother, seventy
years of freedom
have shackled the
house that you made
with the British furniture
I steadfastly tie them
with a nation’s manacles
Even as the yellow house
grew, the nation shrunk
into cavernous hollows
of windswept children
sunken eyes
stained teeth
cadavers
a nation brought primordial
urge of death
now I swallow all symbols
of  oppression, forget them
to be caught in the cross fire
of a nation’s freedom.
Seventy years is a long time
I passed  only sixty in this nation
whirling into torrid seas
of  seas bludgeoned with
blood, and grime
of people who do not understand
these seventy hears of slow, slow time.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s