when two rivers like the bosoms of a mother flow
and feed the new born children
nothing more remains to be said about the moment,
tenderness or art or a divided self and its heart
but then mother has not been fed for long
she is feeling guilty that the kids are not fed properly
she wishes that her breast sbe cut and she be denuded of the source
but then who will do that, every body looks around
we decide to damn the river but do not nurture the source
she cries and the kids become silent
they have learned to be silent when
mother cries