Margins

First Published in Different Truths, October 2020, as a commemorative poem for Gandhi’s birth anniversary, October 2020

 
 A cloud that drifted in the sky, paused, 
 wafted close to the boundary line and sighed.
 

 What is it with mankind, that they divide?
 See the boundary line that rips drips blood —
 

 See that child, what is she? Poor or rich? 
 Yet a hurricane or flood can level them all clean.
 

 What is her caste? What is her faith?
 Strange, they all have the same flesh and blood! 
 

 Why do they have the need to classify? 
 They give so many names and then they fight.
 

 Snuffing out lives with violence and hate.
 Why do they think they are so great?
 

 They cannot even get it right.
 Intelligence is a privilege.
 

 To be born, is a miracle,
 To live, to breath, a wonder.
 

 They could just revel in so much:
 

 To see sunrises beyond my times
 To dance in the rain which ends my life ...

Click here to finish reading the poem

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