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Poetry

SMEARS OF SAFFRON:
Another 'Ode' to Indian Nationalism

SARBPREET SINGH

 

 

 

This is the third in a series of poems and essays by Sarbpreet Singh, marking the 30th year since India's 1984 anti-Sikh pogroms.


 

The Saffron Dawn

Is here at last

Not cool and hazy

Brighter than the

Midday Sun

 

It rips off cunning veils

That you fought so hard

To paint on your pockmarked

Face

 

The soft lines of compassion

On your face were lies

That was blood on your lips

Not glossy paint

It wasn't kohl

That lined your eyes

But human ashes yet not cool

 

Naked you stand in the harsh light

Avarice, hatred your eyes reveal

Your breasts are empty withered dry

You have never nurtured

You will never heal

 

Your eyes wander

Dart in desperate search

For someone to pay

The price of your Shame

But who will you point to now

Who will you blame

For did this gruesome dawn

Not burst from your womb

 

 

October 28, 2013

 

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Another 'Ode' to Indian Nationalism"









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