lines we draw
lines drawn in sand
some
in the name of self determination
some
in the name of a holy father
some
in the name of revenge (warm and cold)
what use are these lines
which divide
which
separate lives into quarters
which
subjugate words
long written professing love and peace
to the whims and arrogance
of men hollowed out by insecurity
what use are these lines
to mothers who have buried
their sons and daughters
and have run out of tears
as they wave to the ones remaining
sent out to do bidding
of masters
safely ensconced
what use are these lines
which serve
just to demarcate rubble
where humanity lies buried
and highlight
walls built
in the vain hope
that the wails from one end
do not reach the other
what use are these lines
to the vultures
who would usually appear
at scenes of battle
they would not discriminate
this time around
they have stayed away
seems they are telling us
there are better ways
of sating hunger
there is honour still somewhere
what use are these lines
which praise only the victors
allow only their narrative
to be spun
allow only their legends
to be sustained
and let the louder noise prevail
what use are these lines
which fail to inspire poetry
as poets scrounge the rubble
for words
both waiting redemption
Maya’s bird lies caged
Cohen’s dove captured again
Lennon’s imagination lies crushed
amid the bombs raining from the sky
there is silence on both sides
there is grief on both sides
both sides have lost before
both sides will lose again
and again
and again
