bahimsa

when the lilacs of his eyes

turn to chutes of the assassin

and come hurtling down

when the lilies of his youth

turn fading and brown

when the hourglass of his mind

turns bleeding and bound

and the roses of his dreams

lay scattered upon the ground

when the roses of her lover

have turned to

flowers of the grave

when his caressing lips

have turned from red to grey

when flowers burn

and only a memory remains

silver medals turn to dust

and an ashen marker is made

when the wind from hiroshima

blows ashes into the town

when they slowly sift to form

a blanket on the ground

when the earth turns to a tomb

and no flowers can be found

and the silken mantle he wore

has turned into a shroud