The Graveyard Of Ghost Love
Burnt ashes strewn by the lake
demand for their reward,
until even the dead are awake
and the alive are inwards lured.
The death march enters the tomb
and the echoes of naked silence
whisper the song of the doomed,
expressing rage and violence.
A clenched fist of a powerless slave
is cold as its misjudged intentions
that lie bleeding in their grave,
yearning for resurrection.
Untainted hopes die alongside
as the malice rises to power.
Smiles put on and tears uncried
make all the good within cower.
Here, in the graveyard of ghost love,
before us, you shall bow!
We’re the mistreated, murdered innocent.
Tell us, do you love us now?
~Saumya Sawleshwarkar | Edited by Ghazal