When Sorrow Loses Life

Ours is a sorrow,
that spills out,
endlessly from a well,
on the dried leaves,
until the core of the well,
dries itself of endless,
tears lashing against rocks,
built within our eyes.

Ours is a sorrow,
that tightens the soil,
as the river of blood spilled,
out from the clash of titans,
flows between the cracks,
of the diffident earth,
while, the ignorant clouds,
move on the fleece-like,
floor of the garish blue.

Ours is a sorrow,

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poem by Nithya Raghavan
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Cornering Me

I am being cornered,
I lie on one of
Those hot edges of
Walls that burns my
Back, because of the
Brand name of religion,
Caste, creed, gender, race,
Colour, and all that which
God has given to the
Product sent to earth.
Nails of hot water,
Boiling hot water, digs
Into my skin, tearing
The skin apart and
Honouring it with
A flag, the flag of discrimination.
Cold snow chews
Through my skin,
And I stand like a
Half-eaten, leafless tree;

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poem by Nithya Raghavan
Added by Poetry Lover
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