The proud hill bleeds in the bald plain
its elongated face, once smooth, disfigured
by the overworking excavators
the scarlet-brown scars showing for miles
each scar deeper than the previous
criss-crossing like the lines of an ancient
the putrid wounds drying under the summer-sun
like the injury of a traumatised veteran back from the front
a lone banyan tree and a hut forming a receded crown
of a diminished rock, once dominating the scene
its innards now feeding the distant high-rises of a
parasitic new town
the tall and solid hill
enfeebled, broken and shattered,
is gasping and slowly dying --
un-seen.