This bullet in my body doesn’t prevent me to speak <br />about peace and our wise goddess Saravouati, <br />and the bitter salt of the ocean of cyclones. <br /> <br />If your soul wins, the whole world wins as well. <br />So, don’t fall. Resist to temptations of lewd Laksmi, <br />count the arrows of Artzoun, the wrath of Rahoo, <br />sow with Atarveit to reap and nourish the children, <br />throw your last kernel to the greedy, to humiliate him. <br /> <br />The stains of my blood are leaves that draw an ivy. <br />Look up to the floor; it applies the order of family, <br />it pricks on the wall a design with the nation’s law, <br />it covers the roof with the Law of a perfect universe: <br />I’m the left hand of my neighbour, when spins thread; <br />he is my left hand too, when I cultivate my cotton. <br /> <br />The bullet in my body doesn’t prevent me to avow: <br />I die for the truth so that I'll be born again as freedom. <br />We are affluent rivers joining with the single River, <br />God defined no borders to have it divided for us all. <br /> <br />The bullet penetrates my body as a seed, I grow anew. <br />Great Soul, means to render holy the bullet inside you, <br />as Jesus renders holy his crucifix, Homer his blindness. <br /> <br />India is single, God is unique with many names. <br />So, let us mount with the loom and the cow. <br />Tyrants who invade my country have no salvation, <br />since eventually the winner is Love, reminding <br />Prometheus, a fire-carrier with a riddled body. <br /> <br /> <br />© JosephJosephides<br /><br />Joseph S. Josephides<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/great-soul-mahatma-gandhi/
