In the Dead of the Dark

The flames blow out

With the gust of a wind

And plunge the world into darkness

Without any hint

The dead of the night fills

With the cries from the cradle

As a mother in the corner

Fills jars with a ladle

‘Hush my child’, she says,

‘Don’t wake up the sleeping ones,

If they arise now,

We will have to face guns.’

In the corner lurches a shadow

The colour of pitch black

Out extends a hand

Towards the mother’s back

“Here I am”, his voice comes

In hushes, lest others hear

The only reason why they meet in dark

Is because, others they fear

Silences stay as hugs

Are given and taken

The cradle lies silent

As elsewhere, morals are broken

 

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