Tearful, she stared at the swamp around,
Clutching the oars, trying to hold the unsteady boat in place,
She wished, she had come long ago,
Fought for her land, and her ancestors,
Buried, who lay now, several feet underneath,
The swamp waters, now, their only grave.
She remembered, mails after mails, that she had ignored,
Written by her near ones, to fight their case,
Of the corporator threatening to empty the town,
Construction of the dam, that was to be immediate.
Homeless, they had stood defiant, till they drowned,
Their once-tall mansions washed away in the floods, abrasive,
Copyright 2016 © Nandini Deka