His Motherland’s Gift

farmer threshed
chaffs cracked
grains dismantled
his sweat of poverty
wet the mud
he dreamt to come out
of a poor’s debris
as his feeble legs shivered
in sweltering heat
he ignored his hut
for moments
so as to escape-
diseased wife
cracked roof
tough walls of debt
his harvest too
reaped losses
all doors shut
so he withdrew
dropped down
attack gave lesser ache
than what his motherland

This poem outlines the condition of many farmers in India. It is an everyday crisis.
Strong and heartfelt prayers to every farmer who spend their lives to protect every soul from hunger and starvation.

They’re angels in disguise.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s