Monday, April 09, 2012

Walk with the moon

Linda Bansil

He used to be up in the mountains
the kris and his son
with guns blazing saving every inch
of respect a homeland
that should have been handed in peace
but he the fierce one
put his gun down together with his comrades
sold out each of their hands
no more defiance
no more fighting
today  became not
a shaheed

lost in an arm struggle
a shielded comrade
goes down
naming the streets with the name
of his oppressors
to remember the colonizer
to shake hands with a fierce enemy
and to eat burgers at mcdonalds
but he died too in exchange of paper
and the spirit of the dead
that can’t let go

how dare you
walk up our mountains
coming with your white aspirations
deploring acts of barbarisms
in the name of your stripes
you flaunt your stars
our moon doesn’t care

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