Pious violence


 Our animosity towards God is reflected

in every distressing possession we have sacralized.

every piece of land we split in two

every door we latched to keep someone

every unmindful attempt of being.


Our misgivings and that cynical terror,

each one, each time

is a violent attempt 

to ravage his idea.


His effortless tyranny we say 

is a way to speak to us, 

As if he's begging us to say his grace,

Rub our hands into rivers, till they melt

Beat our backs, till they break

Sing songs till our parched throats get drenched in blood.

His barbaric ways- tests of time, we think

are his favourite methods of communication.


With our  coward beating hearts, 

severe reluctance to take a chance,

We refuse to even touch 

that it might just all be made up.


Our cracked understanding of concepts,

Disgust for a shared bite,

uninterrupted convenience and piercing silences,

All dance upon the rubble of his home

While we light up a candle, ring some bells and join our hands for a ritual.


While God slips into a deep slumber tonight,

On an unknown road with an empty belly and a broken heart

 I immerse my hand in a river and head in the thoughts 

of countless ways we can be violent to each other,

of countless ways

we have been violent to him.

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