Must this be the state? The Indian Dream,
where death is a byproduct of the assembly line;
in which tomorrow is a danger, the past a cliff;
and "We'll see", like a muzzle, buries in the spine
— this gun is an heirloom.
No, this gun is an artefact.
Its preservation is a national concern.
Would you believe it has never broken?
Such craftsmanship can no longer be learned.

How is this our state? The ancient is consecrated
and the roots never diseased, for look!
How they embrace our necks!
What a love it must be to shoot so deep.
Would you believe it has never broken?
Of course. Why suspect a weapon for working,
why inspect for foulness when you are serving?
No, this is not duty but habit —
one of our great rituals is the averting of the eyes
— of entering that season in one's life
as if it were a library.

Is that what it is? Wisdom in numbers?
Pray, tell, where then is the cut-off?
Gods forbid, you look into the eyes of a child
and see winter where there should be spring.
Did the gods forbid you?
If so, may that heaven be damned
and with it all the promises of new lifetimes.
You are but over-seers.
In your devotion you let your fingers slip
and Bang!
There it was: the cut-off.

If you, or someone you know, is struggling with mental health and would like to speak with someone, you can find the nearest information and support through the global directories of the International Association for Suicide Prevention and Whatsapp. If there are additional resources you think may be helpful, please reach out and I will add them here. I wish you love and strength.