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An Elegy Of The Victim

By Aditi Mehendale

The thoughtless man

could not hear my cry and strife,

instead, the evil hands were engaged

in taking my life.


The axe drew a cut on me,

when my pieces flew in the air,

at the same time, I cried in pain,

but he could not hear.


His eyes were filled with sadistic pleasure,

could not see my silent tears of excruciating pain,

but many a ruthless hand began with axe,

and were cutting me again and again.


I cried for my life “Don’t be so hasty, for killing me

and thus don’t do the deed evil,

lest you will be

in a great peril.”


Nobody could hear my cry

and I was cut brutally,

and I was left with only the roots and the bottom,

my everything was gone totally.



My beauty and grace went away,

which I bore many a year

but now I am an ugly and useless thing,

and helpless and very still I am standing here.


I remember the days,

when the greenest foliage I bore

and of every splendid blossom

and the fine fruits before.


But those cruel hands haven’t ceased

to let me thrive,

and they are now uprooting me from deep,

for my death to arrive.


The selfish souls with devilish hands,

are not at all kind,

they just mean to slay us,

wherever they find.


An elegy of the victim

for the survival it is,

the deeds of the cruel hands,

it is trying to cease.


‘Tis saying, “Don’t you kill us heartlessly,

but save us and grow us kindly.”


By Aditi Mehendale




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