God is grim

God is travelling through a crumbling town

Where women burn and mothers cry.

They call them insane in rich households

They call them commodity under disco lights

They call them deserving in deep dark deaths

They call them raped on wounded faces

They call them names to burn 

They kill them wearing dark coats and raucous lies

Then, they call to hide bodies and battles.

Spread over pensive and trembling, 

God is grim.

Burying their fangs and poison 

his minions twist

in polished smiles of temples layered beliefs.

There is no nation where women lived 

They lived deities, mother, wife, caretakers, 

lovers and anonymous

in honour and lineage of forced titles

With breasts, legs and desire denied.

God keeps travelling through retreating gateways

The staircase left alone had the demon climbing lifts

The bus at night travelled through invaded morals

And the village belle had a great lot of filth.

There are women and men of portraits and priorities.

They can mask you in coffins and perfumes of darkness

They can put the garland in crocodile tears

But they live like demons when god needs unleashed

They plunge their voice in unmatched god and germinated cowardice.

Exhausted, god plunged in meteors buried.

How will god happen when your blood never seek light?

God will remain mute and grim

Like an honest woman in a dishonest household

In a voice of dissent

Separated and repelled

By ones own.

God will let go in martyrdom 

In lissome bodies, in not knowing needles and pain

And infamous screams

But God needs to reclaim you and me

In an incessant spring 

In an unextinguishable light 

In our unborn beliefs. 

Photo from net