Beautiful flowers of doom
Here they always bloom
In the soil of constant sorrow
Stuck with no real tomorrow
In gardens of wood houses
Whose owners have long left
With not much to say now
Genocide is cultural theft
Hands that planted these
Were cut from the heart
Connected yet in spirit
Nothing can do them apart
Calendars keep on flying
The State says it’s trying
But what do I tell the flowers
Who for years have been crying
Home is still far away
This journey is in time
Who is the victim now
And whose is the crime.
– Aayush Khar
( Optimistake )
Photograph by Abhinavanand Singh.

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