I was invited to the group
Called Hot respondents
One person,
Wondered,why the
Streets did not burn
Even when there was
So much injustice.
One person
Wept aloud
That even children are being stripped off their clothes
In this country.
One person became anxious
About hatred, discriminations
Exploitations, violence
And war.
One person
Pointed at the stars and sighed there will come a time
When all this will be answered
One person laughed
out aloud
Saying we are wearing the ashes of burned philosophies
An unknown person
Asked in a low voice
What can we do
That single pointed sharp question passed through every one
Linking them together.
Those who writhed
as if stabbed
Restored their equanimity
Within one second.
People became silent,
For them their
Words have become cold
Their sobs have
Lessened.
Scream at them,
Look!a raw human being
is on fire
They won’t hear that.
Try telling them
Yesterday a raw human being Burned to death in this place.
The social consciousness of
Many Will awaken
Anger burning in their words
Grief weeping in their words
Streets burning in their words.
In their burial ground
The embers of words smoldered.
What can be done now
When raw human beings are on fire
What can be done
Till the past become suffixed
Become observers!
Be silent!Sleep!
Isn’t that enough brother.?
Stop it,
The heat in the name
Hot respondents is
Sufficient for now.
Or else change
the name to
Dead men’s house.
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