Krystal Pen

Fiction, Poetry and everything Literary. Every voice should be heard.

How best to murder a child

Father, should I say thank you for the part of life

You kept from me, so that I became a shrub

Lost in the Sahara, so that I became a shadow

Wandering in the depth of quite streams?

At least I would not share in the luxury of this world’s perils.


Father, I have been washed away by the limbless guards of the Sahara

Quite streams could not anymore lay eyes on my shadow

I am now a root in the tropical rain-forest

Buried neatly underneath a nameless tree.


Perhaps they come looking for me,

Tell them, my skin is clothed in robes of a damp graveyard

Coloured in a glittering lackluster,

The smell of a million feet roaming like drones.

Tell them, if they hear a voice

The sound of a dry, lonely, falling mango leaf

That would be mine.

Tell them, I have written letters, many letters

Perhaps they find invisible inks

And writings of an invisible finger, buried behind a locked room,

There I would be, in the silence of those letters.


Father, tell them all these

So that they would know how best to murder a child;

Nurture him in the baldness of a desert,

And there will be no trace of a single bone.


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Photo credit : Google Images


Categories: Home, Poems

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