Silver line falls from the walls,

Leaving the house all black.

In darkness,

I and the four kids sleep (try to).

The little ones pulling my chest,

Try to suck in dried blood.

Savagely they count

The split ends of my hair,

For our dreams cannot afford the sheeps,

Our sky is sans stars.

I do not have the strength,

Nor do I want to

Sing to them lullaby.

Our ears are accustomed to the

Growl of empty stomachs.

I feel like a corpse.

Clot of beating flesh

Clinged to my stomach,

I do not wish to carry it.

I envy the mother monkeys,

They carry their babies with such love.

I am a mother too,

But I feel human,

Perhaps I would have the first bite

If we come across some food.

                                                            ~Muntazir

                                                          India