INSIDE THE BARBED WIRE THE BURIED VILLAGE

A poem by Deebachelvan

Translated into English by latha ramakrishnan
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Even the lone well
That cannot be shared by everyone
The barbed-wire pierced
And entwined.
With the coconut-thatches
hanging upside down
wherever you see
The empty shells of the
Bombs exploded
are scattered.

The heat of the Sun arriving, invading the tents at will
With the sun swallowing the heads
Whose crowns are snatched away
The words keep hanging on
The barbed-wire.

On the seat made of
Spreading even, the boxes sans
Explosives
You and I are placed.
Without our knowledge
The Clock keeps munching
The hours
Granted to Us.

Looks like
There is a bomb underneath the seat
ever-ready to explode
Again and again
Umpteen number of times
The heart breaks with
the splinters scattering everywhere.

In the loudspeaker that keeps
Blaring the digits all the time
The Words
That somebody longs and
Struggles to utter
Reach the altar
And stand there, patiently bearing.
The ears that are given away
To the loudspeakers
Feel as if someone is calling.

Left alone and abandoned
With his kith and kin
Taken away in different directions
With the search for them is still on
Their whereabouts unknown
The boy looks at everyone.
With no way left to escape
The barbed-wire is tightly strung
On all isdes.

With machine guns
standing in line
In surveillance
watching those terror-struck faces
The deep sorrow of being
left in the lurch
in deadly horror
keeps spreading to the brim
in the end of endless
searching in vain
the little boy lets his
head hang on the
barbed-wire.

In the emptiness of not meeting
Anyone
The light and heat of
Sun alone remains
All-pervading.
With the loud-speaker, spent-out
Turning silent
The Sun goes past the village
Retiring for the day.
As the night arrives
The village, hopelessly stuck
Anguished and entangled
Is being buried.

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05.07.2009