//Stains//

Golden sun bursting heat,

The swollen legs stumbling

On the sweltering street,

Footprints left behind,

A warning or a sign?

The footsteps moved

Leaving behind the marks,

Marks that are stains,

Not only on those dusty lanes,

The stains that are terrible than scars,

Stains that speak,

Speak about swollen hearts,

No, it’s not the stain of dark,

Darkness requires no medium to display its art,

Darkness has engulfed,

Engulfed and blinded,

Made us all comfortable

Inside its own deadly flowers.

Stains that are on the lanes

Are of struggles and pains,

The hard work and efforts,

The dying hope and

 The mob gathered in clusters,

The stain speaks just not in words,

It is about those ignored herds,

Who were left to hang,

Hang and suffocate,

Not by the rope,

But due to dying hope,

Yes, you guessed it right,

The stains are crimson,

Crimson and bright.

But

The phoenix will rise,

Rise from the ashes and bring the life back,

Scathing and screeching

And the hope will revive.

 //Raj Nandani//