Road To Revolution

I was on the road to revolution; when I met-

The childless mother beating her chest in sorrow, the widow shredding tears of solitude,

The motherless child crying for company, the father who had lost his son…

For the road to revolution is filled with people like them.

I was on the road to revolution; when I met-

The poor, the diseased, the wretched, all in a serpentine queue;

Everybody doing their bit, pushing forward-resisting…

The road to revolution-a road of perdition for those walking on it,

Smoke, bullets and bombs find a place with burnt pages of poems;

Yet why do young boys and girls tread on such roads? The answer is yet to come…

An old man came up to me, “Why, you look just like my boy,

May God bless his soul!” His last words hit me hard;

Why remain a spectator? Why not join the queue…

I was on the same road now- fighting, resisting, and again fighting for change!

I saw scores of people joining the fight, but we’re still apprehensive.