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Whom to ask, who did it?

 

Yes, my body, the Sun scorches
To mind too, the heat reaches
But who tore my body into two
And took away a half?
Certainly not the Sun
And whom to ask who did it?

Injuries inflicted, came without calling,
Some healed, some healing,
Some will never heal.
The Sun didn’t do it.
And whom to ask, who did it?

If you can carry on
With a half – sliced body,
Wounds healed and healing;
And pull your cart in heat or cold,
You will reap your crops
Despite your warps.

I want to leave behind
Not my cart empty
May be some toys, for the kids’ joy
May be some words to heal the wounds,
May be even my laugh and smiles,
Seen from far, far miles
But never a drop of tear
Or the old wounds’ smear

My losses are mine, gone in with my wine.
And in my children’s domain
Smell of sandal paste and jasmine
Alone should remain
The sandal from their father
And jasmine from their mother.

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