Friday, May 8, 2015


When the earth turned
As infirm as the sea
Little was left standing
Of hubris or faith or hope;
The sky, indifferent as always
Looked at us
As if we were interlopers
Then shed crocodile tears;
What we thought watched over us
Was also amid the rubble
We salvaged a benedictory hand
Of the household deity
Sticking out of the debris ---
The tremors refuse to die down
We've seen such convulsions before
On a fragile child, and partly died
Every time the body shuddered
When the fever rose ---
What drug or prayer will cure
Our mother, child, mother-child,
Stop this shaking, trembling
End her febrile nightmare? 

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