Not every feeling can be caught
in the fine mesh of poetry
sometimes they're too trivial to note
at others they're too huge, too fraught
so the words knot up in the throat
and the hands can't yank them free.
You explain, you mother goddess
with your array of weaponry -
in your own worship season, no less,
those very ones who're you made flesh
why they're raped, killed, burnt to ashes
by flagrant hate and bigotry.
The news out of India has been abysmal. Reeling. So much violence and hate. In a season meant for worship, introspection and cleansing. News from the ROTW isn't any comfort either. Exhausted, but trying to keep head above water. Poetry, as always, is the first line of defence. :)
Take care, stay safe and well.