A country called home

Amrita Bhattacharyya

It could have been a home
where people had entered then,
The thoughts were all kept for the future

The past(s)
already enveloped in darkness.

The geographical races
and the historical refugees
All dreaming of pedigrees of their own;
felt no constraint –

in their needs and desires.

It could indeed have been a home
to ones who had framed
the contours of the flame.
But the truant flame within
consumed with blocks and spaces —
Each tempest,
each boat,
each one in madman’s guise
wrote their names on the flags.
The flags were deeply stung
by the dream of a home —
Still the warning was all around:
‘Home is injurious when it becomes a spectacle!’

 

Those dreams
Could have been a home to all
sans borders, sans mirrors
Frontiers of
a new corpse of citizenry!