I could make a kite
From the petals of my heart
To be flown by my son
Though the moon cannot die
Let it be my epitaph
On the petals of the sky
Or the gospel of Buddha
That I might leave with him
The mystery of my hair
And make it a switch
To stop the thunder of guns,
Killing Bidyapati and the moon.
I could not reach the moon
Because it was under my pillow
Or behind his brow covered with thought.
I dived into the bay
The moon became the pearl,
To be merged with the wings
He could not drink the coffee
Because it was my blood
Served in the skull of Bidyapati.
Sad moments turned to shadow
To be shot by his own gun.
He went down the stairs
Frozen into a dream of deathless life
My heart missed a bulb
And shot into a red dahlia.
Halima Khatun was a Bangladeshi activist, writer and academic. She took part in Bengali Language Movement in 1952 along with other activists including Rawshan Ara Bachchu. She was the recipient of Bangla Academy Literary Award in 1981 and Ekushey Padak posthumously in 2019.