*Promised Land*

Look at it,
It’s a country
Despite on the map.
But it fades and vanishes.
How it is…

It’s my place
Where my parents were born.
And forefathers too
And lived…

Look,
It was at here
Until I was born.

And yet
Somebody promised
A land
A home
And a country
To someone 
Which was not his own.

It is very simple
When you hear…

But,
I became a stranger
In the home where I was born,
In my bed where I slept, and
In my kitchen where I cooked…

The soil at my feet
It fades and
Becomes another country.

Look,
It easy to erase

As ink from the paper
The greenish colour of my map 
Is drying to white.

Why is my country fading like this?
Can anyone  tell me?
Everywhere
Our country is soaked with our blood.

And we are watering our country 
With the blood 
Like pulp of red roses…
And yet how is my country 
Fading like this?

Poem by Bahiya
Bahiya is from Kerala, India