☛ Submission for October, 2024 issue (Vol. 5, No. 2) is going on. The last date for submission is 30 September, 2024.

A HOUSE OF WOUNDS (A Poem for Gaza)



(A Poem for Gaza)

K. Satchidanandan (India)


I am a house of wounds.

All my rooms are filled with blood.

A drawing room of blood

A kitchen of blood

A dining table of blood

A bedroom of blood.


My walls shrink day by day

Making it impossible even to stand straight

Or lie down and stretch oneself


The passages that lead to me

Are closing one by one;

Those who inhabit me

Have nowhere to go.

No door opens to anywhere.

Walls and barbed wire fences

Squeeze and crush us alive.


Only the tiny bleeding corpses of children

Dead even without a final drop of water

Hang from the olive trees in my compound

In the valley, watered by the tears

Of those who inhabit me.

Arms sprout in the fields

Poisoned by the enemy.

The aggressors’ fire spreads in every direction.

There is no sky, only the smoke of the orphans.

Rain speaks in its ancient language

to the unburied dead.


Nothing remains sacred anymore.

No Prophet’s voice sweetens

The ears of the refugees.

In no eye burns the candle of compassion

There is not even the dream of a star

In the dark sky of terror.


I am a house of wounds in which

Only the screams of the landless resound.

Naked feet dream of wild streams

And pant, longing to return to childhood.

Seated on the back of broken toy-horses

They chant those words, tender with love, 

Untainted by blood:

Aleph- Arnab, Baa- Baatha,

Thaa- Thufaahath, Jhaa- Jha a lab

Jeem- Jamalun ,Haa- Hisaan…


(Translated from Malayalam by the poet)