 |
| Mute Rage, diptych, croquill pen and ink on board |
I failed to raise my voice, so let it die on the lap of utter ignorance. I failed to recognise the truth, staring on my mute face bluntly. It was poking me to react to this bastardisation of the few leftovers of sanity. We are not dead yet.
Constantly facing the loaded barrels of hatred is taking a severe toll on my conscience. It wants to compromise. An escape to oblivion is sought after. I want to lie to my soul, that it isn't happening.
But the barrels of hatred can't be silenced with love and dissent. It asks for more than that. Time is asking for sacrifice. Who will lead the truth to its glory.
© Soumen Bhoemick 2019
No comments:
Post a Comment