There will be a day
When the Modar flowers burn the sky
And then, the people
With sickles and hummers
Would alleviate
A destiny in the course.
These people know how to rebuild
On the wreckage of the old
To repeat:
These people also know
How to demolish a chateau
It is just sequence of time
And one day, that will happen
Modar flower would bloom
The ribcage of the burgess
Would turn into ashes.
(Original Assamese poem Translated by Pabitra Das.)
No no no
The meek aren’t weak
Don’t ever make that mistake
or think such foolish foolish things
Trust me on this
the meek aren’t weak
Yes, they may ask permission when others don’t
And they’ll put up with much more guff
than others do
But here’s the point —
The meek will take only so much
Yes up to a point they may be soap-suds mild or terribly shy
They may smile a bit or stand aside
But they have their limits
Cross their line
Push too far or rile them
And see what happens
In fact if you light their fuse
then it’s best to stand way back because
When the meek finally go off
It’s galactic
Come too close or god forbid
be the cause of their upset
and you’ll be seeing stars in the heavens
This isn’t a riddle of some kind or a joke
It’s a warning plain and simple to whoever’s listening
There comes a time when the meek have had it
They stop begging your pardon
or being sweetness and light
And when that switch gets flicked
Oh my
About the only thing to do is duck
So for your own good
Learn this please and don’t be surprised —
Deep down and at their core
The meek my friend aren’t weak
More at http://www.poetryxhunger.com/.