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Another 'Ode' to Indian Nationalism





This is the third in a series of poems and essays by Sarbpreet Singh, marking the 30th year since India's 1984 anti-Sikh pogroms.


The Saffron Dawn

Is here at last

Not cool and hazy

Brighter than the

Midday Sun


It rips off cunning veils

That you fought so hard

To paint on your pockmarked



The soft lines of compassion

On your face were lies

That was blood on your lips

Not glossy paint

It wasn't kohl

That lined your eyes

But human ashes yet not cool


Naked you stand in the harsh light

Avarice, hatred your eyes reveal

Your breasts are empty withered dry

You have never nurtured

You will never heal


Your eyes wander

Dart in desperate search

For someone to pay

The price of your Shame

But who will you point to now

Who will you blame

For did this gruesome dawn

Not burst from your womb



October 28, 2013


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