is held so strongly
that it hurts brutally
the ends of fingers.
The mark lingers
in red over fingers
birthing pain and victory
while imaginations flee,
dreams change into reality.-
The tiny folded fingers held fears untold..
The child’s ironed collar bent the mischief unlearnt..
The teen’s fist silently echoed the agony unsung..
The youth’s torn letters carried stories unshared..
The man’s tamed ego had a lot unexpressed..
The elderly wisdom screamed mutely justice undone..
The old’s bent back wrapped mental wounds uncured..
The pyre’s wild drowned in it everything unburnt!-
‘R’ivers flowing through the mountains
‘A’im not the bifurcation of the big hills.
‘I’ndeed, the strength of the latter
‘N’urtures the tenderness into power.
‘B’ending on their path, they do cut through,
‘O’ften as meek tears flowing from the eyes
‘W’et the wall of nose sometimes.-