Worm

Crawling under the tank treads

Under the quaking earth –

A worm, of no importance

Not even enough to be noticed

When it is crushed

As oil and metal, ripped from the earth

Made into a mountain on the move

Run over the earth they were part of once,

Spouting smoke and explosive death

And the worm can do nothing.

Nothing?

There is a mother’s tears, a father’s anger

There is a broken house under a towering wall

A broken house and a lost hope,

There is a sister dead in the gutter.

And the worm shall rise

With stone in hand against the metal mountain

The worm shall rise

As fires burn the sky

The worm shall rise, the worm shall be crushed

Today.

Tomorrow, and a further tomorrow will pass away.

And the mountain will rust and fall silent,

The towering wall will crumble away.

And it will be time for the worm to feast.

Then no sister shall die in the gutter

And no mother weep.

Copyright B Purkayastha 2017

 

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