I wrote this during an emotional fit between New York and Bali 
bombings. Now, while I still feel strongly as far as the sentiments 
portrayed go, but purely from a literary angle I feel this poem is 
flawed. A fellow poet advised me that there were too many stanzas so 
I took a dekko and removed two that I felt were superfluous.This 
poem still feels loose, something is missing. Please critique this 
and let me know.  Thanks in advance  - Rumjhum


WE DO NOT PRAY FOR THE DEAD

We do not pray any more
for the dead, Lord, instead
we pray for the living
Lord have mercy
on all the gun-totters, bomb-makers
Psychopaths, terrorists and murderers.
Yes please Lord, show your mercy
on all those who kill without understanding
the source of their hate. 
Lord show them the rainbow.

Those who slide between shadows
making mine fields out of schools
and playgrounds, shopping malls
and places of worship. Those
who swat at human lives
like so many flies, 
for them Lord please bleed again.

There is just so much of pain
that we can bear. So many lives
destroyed that we can repair. Build
again afresh. Start from scratch.
Learn new lullabies to sing
To our babies and theirs after them.
Lord there is
just so much we can do, and we will.

We do not pray for the dead anymore lord.
We pray for the living. This one planet 
You gave us. The one You made for us
the only home we know Lord, have mercy on them
And us too (for we too are the living 
And heaven knows
Lord, we need faith before valor!)

Now let your rainbow pegged from horizon
to horizon reveal its promise shade 
by bleeding shade the promise you had made
before this earth with its sky stretched tight from pole
to pole, with all its riches for the picking – if we do it wisely.
All its songs, laughter and tears all of this 
which we still have
but which may well fracture into another asteroid belt.

Lord we dare not pray anymore for the dead.
We cannot forsake the living.
Lord have mercy.
It is all here, all that we have. Give
us the chance to return to the dust from whence
we came after we have done with our lives
The dust of this sweet earth. For we are
the living amongst all 
the gun-totters, bomb makers, psychopaths terrorists and murderers. 

We cannot breathe in space. Nor can our children 
and theirs after them.
There are places where souls can go
to be purged, to be punished, to be exalted.
But for us the fragile living, lord this is all
Lord have mercy.

© Rumjhum Biswas 






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