in

Waiting …

Her bones turned into ashes,

And dipped into sacred Ganges,

Yet, her soul is hung around,

For her ashes to turn into fire and to burn the juvenile delinquents.

Wating for the judgment

where the crime was a treat to the sinners

 and she being the offender.

Waiting for the end of the demonish acts,

Where no girl or a woman is despoiled , molested and throttled to death,

Waiting for the sanctity of the soul so deserving.

Waiting for the verdict that sets 

an exemplar to the  defaulters to fear the death,

And subjugate the invaders of humanity.

                                 Geeta.S.Upase.

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Dynamo

Written by Great.S.Upase

 

Writing is the echo of one's soul,

Song of unheard calls,

And weaving of dreams.

 

I Wish A Writer Loved Me

The Heart that Knew