It will take me aeons,
To again grow and bloom
For so ruthlessly you plundered my plume,
That what remains is a hovering gloom.
And may be I just never bloom.
I make home in hearts
Always with a cautious start
Then carefree I dwell
Attached to all sentience
Verily believing all that is portrayed.
But now I am a broken thread ,
Lying in shreds
Next to the dead,
Of a rosary shattered
Its beads all scattered.
I was perforated when bullet pierced chests
I was burnt in houses set ablaze
I was desecrated in the holy place vandalized,
I was smouldered in the books set aflame
I drowned in the shrieks for help.
And now a lifetime is less
For me to incarnate
And thread the beads once again
To find a home in loving hearts,
Or wait for a miracle to change fate.