Anxiety in Mosaic

OF BLOOD…

30 OF BLOOD… Fadimatou’s Question There are lands and lands that bleed From the muzzle and bomb gashes of greed Their red red rivers Taking their rise From battlefields There is the civil gore In which is drenched Those homelands that have attempted suicide To hang down by the nooses Of rapacity’s tail Longer Than the gibbon’s There is the blood too That rained cats and dogs Down from Rwanda’s skies Done In those crimson days of the year of their lord And pure Aryan blood there was That once stank Of sins that brought to the eyes Of even the utmost gumption, Dark dark tears of horror And that too From the slit throats of four-legged ones Washed In vain Down the drains 31 Of gluttony’s abattoir Are they – boars of men whose hands These kinds of bloodshed have stained – Any less unclean Than us; breasted souls whose period comes Only Divinely Through no fault of ours? 32 ...