Resentment of inmates made me
leave home.
Sentiments didn't dry to suit
my age;
Hence I went to streets
instead of kin’s home.
I didn't bring with me any
past glory.
The cold of contempt didn't make me shiver;
The heat of humility didn't make me sweat.
Sans qualm, sans shame, I
turned a useless straw,
And without pain, nor strain,
I begged for food.
Now and then tears of curses
washed my eyes
And stale food thrown in bins
roughened my tongue.
Grandchildren were completely
forgotten.
All possessions were thrown
as ill gotten.
When I will die and who will bury me
Went out of my head, eloping
with my
Fear of future, fear of
vulture and of gods.
I will die with no wish to
leave foot prints.
10.09.2008
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