Mom wrote this poem yesterday.
The pigeons are all a flutter…
Blood streaks and stains the gutter.
Life is shot to a screaming standstill,
Through the smoke we glimpse the face of evil.
Terror it seems has got even bigger
It is now youth with fingers on the trigger
Humanity shudders at the brutal force
As lives are taken, without any remorse.
The cries are deafening
Yet leaves us speechless
And Mumbai weeps …
As terror hacks at its knees.
And though she explodes and burns, this is Grace under fire -
Crumbling, as Courage and valor end on the funeral pyre!
Like the Taj, though wounded, but still standing strong
The people of Mumbai shall rise ever hopeful, before long…
And the whole world watches this latest atrocity
With dumbfounded horror edged with awful familiarity.
- Preeta
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