Facing the moon and the sun
And the earth, I bleed;
Embracing mangled corpse of humanity
I bleed at the crossroad of civilisation.
Words are stale,
Expressions are stillborn,
Passions lie wounded on chariot of life
Racing on the wheels of destiny.
Seasons die and are born again;
In clammy tracks of history
Burden of hatred gets laden;
Treasures of futile escapades
Bury tender veins of innocence;
Trampled emotions sing a dirge
And I bleed in kisses of scathing moments.
I can’t carry the cross, yet I wish,
I can’t shed the chains, yet I wish,
I can’t lift me up to your nailed chest,
And, be hung along your stretched hands,
Yet I wish for to die—cursed, stoned,
Ignored and unloved; but I can’t
And, I bleed at the crossroad of civilisation.
O Lord, you had choices;
Yes, you had, my lord—to bleed and to die;
But, I’m left with just a lone—to bleed—
To bleed through an endless life and I bleed.
Every poem of yours, that I have read is enwrapped with poignancy and I must say I can read them again and again and still find something more.
ReplyDeleteSo generously honoured me...really touched, my friend !!
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