Silence of the skullcap
/for the gore called 26/11/
The skullcaps hosted brains with misanthropic beliefs and misdirected ideologies.
They would have been happier hosting the activists crossing bridges and thresholds and lighting candles--where they belonged.
The guns in the rough fingers scared them. The intricately designed caps wanted to plop into the Arabian sea and swim towards the Mediterranean sea.
But they couldn't.
They did not want a parade of eyes to follow them as they opened the glass doors for a parade of massacre -- a first date, a family holiday.. rummaging sheets and tables and chairs and spraying hate and blood.
Their caps were white like a dove.
They wept and wept as the police horns and the ambulance wailed.
For they belonged to a far off island and it was their silence that murdered the soul of a city and a country. The placid waters turned into a typhoon of rage and wet the city of dreams. Only if the skull caps had limbs to sprint and lend its shoulder.
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