my lover is an activist in many time-zones
weapons are her words, sometimes even stones
carries slogans in her pockets of a very wide range
she walks and she talks, they chink like loose change
the day I was supposed to meet her in the street
talk about the world devoid of any honest creed
as I waited and waited at the chosen spot
practiced my phrases on all the gloom and rot
she turned around the corner like a solemn judge of law
the devil did vanish cowardly at Omar’s sight in awe
then she smiled & suddenly it was breezy all around
more color in every sight, less noise in every sound
‘were your rights infringed? your peace dispossessed?
why looks my man so brooding so utterly unblessed?’
‘do kissless welcomes, cold embraces count?
all logs are not pulpits, all pebbles not mounts!’
‘must we guard closely our own little garden?
when one flower can bless hundred little children?
every street is a stage, every man a director
this play will go on unless every man is an actor
every tick of a clock is a call to arms
love must wait and so must all the charms!
even the song of birds in lands of injustice
weighs heavy with caution against armistice!’
with passion this preacher of modern faith
shook my conscience from a wispy wraith,
but gravely a thought did take a roam
my lover will be an activist even at home