Riots

The kid from village
Saw the glowing city,
With his gloomy eyes
Trying to adjust his pupils
To see from the darkness
Admiring the citylights
Thinking how rich are they
Never running out of fire

The teen from that house
Seeing through broken windows
Trying to see through
The thick black smoke
Looks towards the dark village
Covered in pitch silence
Thinking how lucky are they
Not going through this crisis.

The alleys, the lanes
Buses burnt in ashes
Crippled carts struggled
To stand straight, like
Those lives, hanging lives
Plethora of clouds in sky
But today, clouds did not rain
They smoked, smoked fire

She sat on the footpath
Eyes full of tears
Both hands on the head
Fingers buried deep
Inside those white hairs
Who saw through tons of seasons
Lost whole family, and, to what?
Those riots, why in the
Name of god, will you
Why will you do that
She asked, with breaking voice
Just to be answered pretty soon
The burning pole fell down.