Shant – Poem

Shant

Furious at questions
(Which mildly hint
Toward a suggestion
Of mental-squint)
She slams with a tired tongue,
Crying, for she is young.
Forgiven for the same;
And Mother’s love
Gives on beyond the pain,
For hope above
Drives her soul onward now
– Praying the seed sown grows.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s