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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