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Son of the Soil
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Aug 2010 Contest, English Poetry |
They burned in the itching desire
Of adorning her in green
And trying to trinket her
In the crescent moon and stars
Making an unscrupulous effort
To adulterate
The placidity of the Ganges.
Little did they know
That the seeds
Of her life’s vessel
Would not let the enemy
Walk over her bosom
Never letting the Himalayas stoop
Or ever let the flow of Ganges
Cease in the enemy’s paws.
They lighted up our Diwalis
When they played Holi
With their scarlet blood.
When we were nestled
In our burrows
They ditched every refuge
To let the projectile
Impale into their holy flesh.
Such is he the brave Indian soldier
Who draped his life bearer in the tricolour
Festooning her in the twenty four spokes wheel.
Not as a Hindu or Christian
Jat or Maratha
A son of the soil
For whom victory is his bride
India his most venerated mother.
© 2006-2010 Rinzu Susan Rajan
Very passionate poem
liked it immensely
@Parespeare,
Rinzu,
very passionate and intense. There is a starkness about the imagery.
Gion