There is this trident,
piercing an embryo.
Around it,
the clamour
of a maddening crowd.
And beneath the shouting,
a little cry, a life unborn.
They shout
with all their patriotic frenzy,
their flags raised high,
their anger raised higher.
And there, that face,
with the tiny moustache,
speaking of humanity,
while a bayonet
rests against the heart
of those who speak of hope.
The trident holds the unborn.
The crowd holds its flags.
And somewhere between them,
humanity
is
still
trying
to be
born.
-
Author:
P Sudhakaran (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: August 23rd, 2026 00:06
- Comment from author about the poem: It\\\'s a political poem against all those who trample humanity in the name of politics and religion
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 14
Offline)
Comments1
Well marked these images take on real dimensions in a troubled world where religion is a paradox promoting peace and enacting war, politics another set up to govern people it discriminates against them. The mustache a Hitler and the trident a devil could be Christian, Jewish, Muslim doesn't matter. A powerful write.
Thanks for the fine read
You are most welcome Sudhakaran
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