In the evening fog, like ashen smoke over the foothills;
blurred vision when the sisters drowned in ankle deep water.
The stream’s crime, it became a silent witness, labeled an accused;
to a gruesome murder, to adults drowning in its shallow depths.
As they sleep to eternity, a strange bewailing echoes in the orchard
Of screams left behind, of clamorous whimpering sobs
It was me you dragged in the night, it was me dead by the stream ;
It was me you inflicted, it was me you trampled under jackboots.
Yet I am ALIVE
Every spring new buds sprout on these graves,
every summer daffodils shall bloom there.
29th May, 2012