Through A Peek-Hole

From high up on the hill Goddess Durga oversees The three intercepting canals And the mighty river Tears of an ancient Personal sorrow Flow into the river... The surrounding hills Jutting into the river Stood mute witnesses To those dark shady nights Absorbing the muffled Helpless innocent protestations Why did the Goddess Prefer to turn a deaf ear Contrary to her image Of squelching the evil? Night after night The much favourite sky Would take an awkward bow... Decades of flow Didn't seems to change anything! Everything's just the same; The canals and the river and the Goddess Only the hills look a tad arid The sky continues to cling to the hills But the tears of a personal sorrow Now flow into the sea