BADRI RAINA | Caravan Daily
The spell is broken.
The bewitching wand turns
To wood.
Paralysed slumber
Of years lifts an eyelid
And sees into the dark subterfuge.
There is a hint of spring in December.
A breach in the overcast
Reveals a newborn David,
Firing sure slingshot
Into Goliath’s heart.
Hope seems no longer in vain.
The Republic breathes again.
