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Born was I , three decades past a midnights stroke,
Out from a mother’s womb I came ,
Wailing into the arms of a mother I knew not of
Her face was new , and just a simple blob of color
This world screamed and cried in agony unknown to me
I cried and cried to go back into the womb
where peace and calmness lay in abundance.
Protected from all , by the face that was just a blob to me
Six decades have passed since that midnights stroke
Six decades where stories found its way to my growing ears.
The world still cries as it did before
And perhaps a womb be a better place still
where peace and calmness lay in abundance
But I be too big today to fit in
My mothers arms,stretched far and wide
Blood trickles through fingertips
From shores afar , many come to her
Her touch craved by the sands from different seas
Lusted and loathed by all ,
Raped and abandoned she lay crying
Perhaps the womb be a better place to be
where peace and darkness lay in abundance
But a child am I , of a mother whose silent tears are heard within
Six decades have passed since the midnights strokes.
A crucifix she remains amidst those seeking hope
Her feet are washed by the dreams of many
Her arms wide open to any who come
Brothers and Sisters have stood and fought
Slapped , battered they remain as one
With every fallen one , stand two more
Perhaps the womb be a better place to be
where peace and darkness lay in abundance
But an Indian am I , a child am I
Take our lives , sip our blood
Slap our cheeks , spit on us.
Smile will we
For brothers and sisters be there, to take our place
Know this for sure
Touch our mother , and face our wrath
None greater be the rage , than a child’s wail
An Indian am I, a mother’s child I remain
