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.