To the Young Rebel
You raise your hand – Azadi –
Azadi – you think your moment has come –
to save mankind from hate, hunger?
Invisible, I roil you between the finger and thumb
in shapes I want – a flute when I want to play
a dirge, a disk when I want blood.
I mix from tubs of clay –
green with gold, ivory black and Indian red –
kohl around your wide-open eyes.
When you are asleep I drill into your head
and plant the seeds of Sweetbrier.
Ivy, Aloe and Aconite. Also Nasturtium.
When you awake I have you wired
to a field of sun-bathed beauties. Also tarantulas. Syndicated
by those that dreamt them all, before you.
I work the threads and tongues to have you inflated.
Move you out and in the shadows, to beats of drums, pointing
at doors that need the toys, doors that need be crossed
for later, friends to be feted, foes eliminated.
By Sabyasachi Nag
Sabyasachi (Sachi) Nag is the author of two books of poetry Bloodlines (Writers Workshop, 2006) and Could You Please, Please Stop Singing (Mosaic Press, 2015). His new book of poems, also by Mosaic Press, The Book of Nothing and Everything is forthcoming in the spring of 2017.
Born in Calcutta, India, Sachi immigrated to Canada at the turn of the century. Sachi works in education and human resources and has lived in about ten countries before settling down in Mississauga, Ontario with his wife and son.