Mother's Cry Poem by Chaitanya Deshpande

Chops over chops
Of hammer Hard
Injecting nails poisonous
Under the Son of God,
Yes, O Yes. That is a sin
But still going on and on and on

Their thrust for blood
Ours thrust for drops
They want him dead
We want grow crops
And the killing a God-gift for blossom and lawn
Is still going on and on and on

Not one not two but billion nails
Hurting hammers, Bursting bells
Hours and Hours of endless drill
And nothing well, but a “Bore-well”

We crush, kill and destroy
Safely ignore mother’s cry
We Hurt, damage and get our life
Our lips wet finally and a vampire’s sigh

At last
A Christ
Hanging on Cruse
Bleeding Helplessly

And Deep
Incurable, Violent wounds
On her crying face,
Can’t you see?