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