Regret

COLONIAL DREAMS

Somewhere that once was Kuldulley Cemetery,
a bulldozer recycled
the remains of an officer and his wife.
How strange it must seem where space is at such a premium
that it should be reserved for death instead of life.

They stepped in once with their dreams, covering brown skin
with white suits, marching to unfamiliar tunes,
putting guns in hands outstretched
in honest friendship, leaving behind a bloody battlefield.
They wrote new maps, while you, unknowingly, fetched

the knives for them to carve up the land they thought was
theirs to give away like the stinking meat
they bade you cook and serve for dinner.
Those pampered aristocrats who dreamt of their empire as
a jeweled crown could have done better awake. Winner

of wars and loser of opportunities they
were. Far from their world of fog and decay
where they learned to slash and burn,
was all they needed, just for the asking, but they could not see.
Why is it people come to teach and not to learn?

Only the dead are free. Both of us are cloaked in
smog, pc's, aids, and nuclear power.
Is India safe now? Are we?
My grandparents lie sleeping beneath your streets…peacefully.
God help our children to transcend their legacy!

~Broken Wings~

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