An Indian Spring is underway—

Will it lead to a flowering

That leaves behind a winter long,

Or will it be another Arab Spring?

 

Is the ground now sentient enough

To withstand the marauding boot?

Or, will resplendent Amazon heft

Keep safe the harvest from the bandicoot?

 

Time is now on a razor’s edge

That could wound on either side;

But the Amazons blunt the cruel  blade,

And float above the crimson tide.

 

What was benumbed seems astir

With a felling so extreme

That succumbing might be terminal,

But success not just a dream

 

If shoulder stays behind the wheel

Now yielding to a truthful touch;

What courage lies in a conviction

That the oppressor assumes just too much.

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