(70) A threat to so many.
The closed double doors of the local temple,
with its rusted bells steadfast in the hinges,
sediments of dust sing tales of woe,
invite sweepers from the road side
who shudder for want of feeling secure!
Oily lamps and dust-laden idols weep
for priests hidden from the precincts,
termites brood over the dusty doors,
my brushes combat the corners of the
cockroach eggs loyal to their seats,
I think a while, why the local petty politics
Should creep the temple premises?
Sainthood is abrogated,
God and God head are crucified,
by ugly and ambivalent ways,
why this deadly prejudice,
and discrimination of race?
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