At the Pyre of Democracy

Silence,
a wanton death.
Weary dissent muted.
A ripe nation bleeding amok,
let’s rise.

Punctured
democracy,
wallowing in quick sand.
A sleepwalk, a moral debris?
Let’s rise.

Blinded
we must not tread,
Let the knots be undone
Let the light and love dance again.
Let’s rise.

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Deepti Sharma
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