Rise, Onwards To Change

By Mukesh Choudhry

Us, already dead,

We roam these streets

Of violence and prejudice,

Amidst the enforced sacred silence

Over cries and lulls of depression and agony.

Can't you hear it close,

The whispered sounds of drowning

In these creeks?

As shadows of doom fall,

Frightful tears flail

Upon the innocent cheeks;

Reddened and scarred for

Longevity of your oppressive existence.

The despair will mark

The lament of falls — the cries that were,

When the Angels had to die.

'When will the healing ever fall?',

Looking up, we've wondered, at those

Eternal grey skies, that gloomily float,

As revelations within the minds hold;

Scream your calls!

End, is a friend.

Suffer the waves, run or walk

Through the wall.

Embrace the toll.

Those tears will dry,

But not before they bring a flood;

Wash away the rains.

To come again, fly away;

Them, crooked vultures will lie again

When the night weeps

For the dawn of our new skies,

And the sorrows will remind our eyes,

That Angels, too, deserve to die.

By Mukesh Choudhry