Gandhi: A Poem
After all the demolitions
Of your syllables,
You persist, impish and dour,
Like a toothache
In the hate-filled mouth,
Like a pestering splinter
In the violent heart.
Like the grass they trample,
You spring back in a rush of winking
Truthfulness.
Wiry as you were
We still have no other anchor
To lean our bewilderment on.
No climate change dents
The steel of your loving.
Those that killed your body
Are dead in the soul.
They are the leaves that fall,
You the trunk, the root, the soil.
(Badri Raina, 30 January 2023. Badri Raina has taught at Delhi University.)
