India

Smoke blackens our gaze,

we reminisce people as manikins made of soot

– it’s a happy memory because

whatever stays becomes darker;

riots are like a daily meal – people

don’t stay healthy without one,

also something that makes newspapers every day,

because if that won’t be, we will be reading

blank pages – white,

ruined by the peace it encompasses;

whatever stays becomes darker – even

what makes the newspapers;

fifty years after: things will make chapters,

history books printed in black ink;

fifty years ago: there would be no history books,

on what will make them tomorrow;

present: smoke blackens our gaze,

whatever stays becomes darker;

eventually, a nation splits –

silence