Shahid Batalvi Speaks

with apology to Black Elk for he speaks first

The First Story

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Tell me again, holy mother
The first story
 
When humanity had carried
That burning ember
From the erupting volcano
In searing hands, towards the cave
 
That thunderous night
With rivers of fire
Weary men watched your fury
Till dawn swept anew
 
Holy mother, your ancient warriors
They touched your body, with silent passion
You gave birth to hope, that burning night
And made ravaged mortals, a kingdom of men
 
Now your last warrior
With seared hands
Lays by the abyss
Water drips, on ashen embers
 
August 25, 2008
 
 
Dedicated to all who have died and will continue die in ethnic based violence in Palestine, Israel, Kashmir,
Pakistan, India, Afghanistan, Iraq, Lebanon, Sudan, Ethiopia, Eritrea, Somalia, El Salvador, Yugoslavia,
Northern Ireland, Namibia, Angola, Mozambique, Cambodia and many other such lands
 where dispossessed humanity strives to find its salvation. 
 
Ethnic based violence has its roots in excessive socio-economic, socio-cultural and socio-political disparity
within and among nation states. This disparity, in turn, finds its basis in a delibrate and calculated
want, and not need, to maintain illiteracy, poverty and political disenfrancisement.
 
When a large swath of humanity is left marginalized and dispossessed for far too long in
far too many parts of the world, the affects will manifest themselves in ways that 
are now becoming visible. These affects are seemingly decoupled from their
actual causal chain but are associated with religious, ethnic and national
 contention and benefit the self-serving interests of the same.
  
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Written by Shahid Batalvi

February 17, 2009 at 9:01 am

Posted in poetry

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