Blood suffers as only blood can
Flowing through clogged arteries
Surfacing on a cut
To be washed away
Blood travels as only blood can
From your head to toe
Coursing, cursing, living
Ultimate, dried away
Blood splatters as only blood can
From struggling smiling bodies
In the air of terror
On mangled train doors
Blood rises as only blood can
In a city that can never sleep again
In a common man's breast
In protest to utter: Enough
An attempt to capture the essence of my thoughts and put them in bearable prose, or worse (as the unimaginative pun indicates). Not too different from my scribbles on paper, only a lot more legible.
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- Parth
- Father. Writer. Quizzer. Movie geek. Software guy. Music lover. Cricket follower. Dessert consumer.... You get the drift. The whole is the sum of all Parths. Author of 'r2i dreams'. Join the conversation at https://www.facebook.com/r2idreams
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7 comments:
I hope all is well with your friends and family back home...
Like I was commenting in my previous post: everyone I know is fine. There are 200 people I didn't know who are dead, and it could very well have been anyone I knew for it struck at the heart of the common man's existence.
there is no victory, no survival, and no defense and no place to hide, no limit and no rival in this exhaustive fratricide. we all fall down.
Blood knows only as blood can
The monsoon, the sea, the lullaby of trains,
Invisible, but haunts
With pain in a strange land.
From one Bombayiite to another.
Apt! Felt the anguish... still do.
This is a nice post, Parth.
You are right, but how does anyone in Bombay even implement the "enough!" part of it. Tough!!
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