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Guest Poet John Thelapuram

Tears from the Desert

How could you do this to us?
Desert is growing in front of us
Where should we go?
Whom should we meet?
I didnít come to you
I were a humble servant of you
Spend my time in serving your wife
You only came to me
It was your wish
And he is your child
Where should we go?
Desert is growing in front of us
Forgot the thirst you had then?
For one kid of your blood
Thirst is growing inside us
See your kid is almost dead
Sun is hot and there is no shade
Desert is growing in front of us
There is no leaf, not even brown
I want to cry but tears are emptied
Whom should we meet?
There is no chance meet anyone
I know I am your slave
I have no right to ask
How could you forget him?
He is your son, your own blood
You knew that I am your slave
Still you came to me
Is this justice? Is this right?
I canít walk any more
Oh I need some water
The sun looks almost yellow
I canít walk any more
I wonít come back to you
I wonít demand any thing
I know you are a man
Who canít change anything
May be this is my last minutes
This desert may become tom
Tomb of your slave and child
None will come to bury us
But the god may send sand storms

July, 2002

John Thelapuram's questions:

What do feel after reading this poem?

Is the poem too long?

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