washing blood stains.

i’ve kept silent
for long
so will
i remain.
die, mother
a peaceful death
your shroud
will be
stainless white.
the red
stain
shall trouble you
no more
i have
soaked
beaten
churned
rinsed
wringed
dried
the colourless
sari
that wore
my virgin blood.

© Copyright by tina rathore

uprooted words.

i’ve torn the page
where
you came alive
after many deaths.
now
i displace you
to pages
on a blinking screen
so many screens.
where
you live
so many lives
once again.
you call yourself
‘uprooted’
no mother
no father
land
to belong to.
there you reside
in so may hearts
in mine still.
but you insist
on that page
randomly picked
from a nearby bin
where i scribbled
with a careless hand
suffering
labour pains
there you ask me
a hundred times
how i came?
and from where?
who were my
grand
grandparents?
and I
shut you up
with a thump
hitting you
with a push
of my keyboard
keys.