Christmas poem By Mahfuz Al-Hossain

A CURSED YEAR

Once all the roads towards our
village home Garchapra
were lost in the deepest mud
of the Maoist semiotics
due to indiscriminate exchange of bullets
among Sarbahara outfits

Defaced dead bodies
of our distant cousins
were kept lying under the open sky
in broad day light for few days
as villagers were very much scared of
getting closer to those corpses
due to enforced nihilism

Coincidentally, In this
unattractive atypical autumn
I see so many rusted yellow leaves
are dropping down altogether
like dewdrops of despair here and there

What a cursed year this is
As lovely human -flowers
of different colours and fragarances
are falling down on the ground
like intermittent raindrops of November
due to unknown pain and anguish

Photo courtesy : Modern Arts — Paintings of the 20th Century