EIGHT YEARS

The smile of missed comes back
Saddled on memory's back.
The enflamed past
Enliven in the street.

The hostile officers
Come with records
Remind the mother of missed
Today the file crossed
Missed cases are closed.

Eight years ago in burns
Lanes of licking flames
With kripans and saffron flags
In storming crowd's cries
The son's groaning face.

Not the soul or heart
But the sword of court
Says of man in red tags
Whether dead or stays.

With the eyes of deep wells
Mother looks the official hells
Years passed as eight
She waited till the day last
With a thin hope on her face
Missed will come back once.

But the time crossed the line
The State states in order
The missed till yesterday
But surely dead today.

Yet, she waits for him
Even in the steps to grave.