Swamp Tigers

No matter the monsoon rains that swished the tall grass
In the rivers journey downstream through
tea bushes on a symmetrical hill where
baskets dangled on nun  dressed heads
collecting  two buds and a burst of beauty
for tea bags.

Hidden in the dense foliage
Semtec strapped to her belly
She walked from bush to bush unafraid.
She had died many times before.

When gathered around counting tables
Her mind tripped as a childs cry found her heart
and she pulled the umbilical cord  to a bomb trigger.
and the muffled sound escaped
as the fifty mothers melted in the searing heat
and the factory flattened against the hillside
burning roasting tea and flesh together.

Deep in the jungle the Tiger growled
a low menace (of rejoicing?)

Other tamil tigers stalked the night in camouflage
jackets, strapping  other  mothers
to the savage sword of an enemy side.
Lost forever in the mayhem.

Author Notes
Its all over now. It happened once before the revolution faded against brutality.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved.