The Orphan
The
promises of a festive season are always many. We nourish the festival and its
myth in hope that it will bring into our lives some of those finest moments
that we long so much to have in the
present life, as the many people in the stories from past had. When some events
take place that shakes us up from the conscious sleep we conveniently choose
for ourselves, we say it’s bad. I thought about saying the same when I was
asked to help some of my friends to provide groceries and other goods to a home
for the disabled. It was under a charity organization run by one of the
Christian sects. There were poor and disabled, physically and mentally. There
were kids too. One of them had lost his mother just a month back. This poem,
perhaps, was inspired from my visit to that home. I would like to add some
value to this poem by dedicating it to those children and homeless adults.
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| Image Courtesy: Google |
The
Orphan
The
intimacy of your tears
With the
loneliness of my days
Cannot
comprehend why
I am
alone in a city of crowds.
The kindness
of your words
Cannot
mean why my ears go shut
At the
music of laughter and
The
harmony of gatherings.
The smile
of your empathy
Cannot
bridge the rupture
Of my redemption
and someone else’s
Legacy.
This poem has also been published in Poem Hunter.com
Comments
@A: Thank you Agnes!