the poetry of my land



i walked across nine ranges of hills
i never minded the diversion of ravines and risks
little vales and the bewildering beauty
when i moved downwards i saw no difference
the people do change and so does the environment
yet never had i found what i was looking for
i was not merely searching but scavenging
alas i have never found the poem
i found everything but the poem of my land
i wonder if the army had taken away
but they would take away only our security
what if the political masters had done it
yet the poem is no power they’d kill for
at times i fear it might have been killed in a fake encounter
and i’d dread to imagine it had been sold away
like our soul that we had sold off to the country
still the country cares only about the territory
i feel that the poem is somewhere
and i’m not doing enough to find it
then i feel if i should climb up the hills again
or maybe redig the whole valley
but then also i’m scared of finding it in bits and pieces
destroyed amidst the fighting between the hill and the vale
howsoever it is, if only i could find the poem of my land

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