By Sonnet Mondal

You all are culpable— for wending your way to schools

for going to hospitals, for playing in open spaces and

for keeping at your dreams within a country in rags.

Yes, you never knew that you would be going down with

a fever that would burn your fleshes into a universal

white fume— blooming in newspapers.

But, liven up the carcasses now. You wanted to be

in suits like Putin or Trump; look what have you ended up with—

a sweat of literate talks in a ground of experimentation.

The handsome presidents have osculated you goodbye.

Now burn yourself completely, or they would light cigarettes

out of you, blaming you for the cancer rampant in air.

Don’t let yourselves counted — history will be framed without you.

You won’t smell good like those dead woods and leaves, so

vanish with the fumes and transform yourself into water—

it would fulfil your hope —

of staying away from fire

and desire to wash blind eyes.

The Unborn ones, please retreat to your mother’s womb

The mouths of guns are shouting outside.

Wait till they have the ear to celebrate your first cry.

– Sonnet Mondal contributed this poem to PalestineChronicle.com. Visit: www.sonnetmondal.com.