Lone Traveller
I am now a lone traveller,
Roaming to find my filial roots.
Long begun this endless search,
From the days I started to think and feel.
In the roaring crowd that moves along,
And all the faces I chance to glance,
I search for a ‘Mother’, who cast me out,
Into the dark hide out of a vacant street,
Still smelling of new born blood,
And still fresh with severed chord,
To be eaten away by ants and rats,
Or to be trampled over or crushed beneath.
Did she do it with a quivering heart?
Or was it in her hurry to rid?
Who would tell me who she was?
What she did and where she lived?
Was she so beggarly made?
Or was she bearing a bastard child?
Had she fallen into a deceitful trap?
Or was she one, too young to tend?
When such questions plague me mad,
Slumber quits me with dreary nights.
Often my thoughts hurl to the past,
To live once more those cheerless days-
The days I stayed in a Destitute Home,
With a hundred other kindred souls.
Life was always a ritual there.
Getting up and going to bed,
Eating thrice and taking a nap,
Having a bath and changing dress.
Never once sensing a loving touch,
Or ever relishing a fond kiss.
Later someday, a couple came,
And took me with them to an alien land.
There I had such kingly days,
But always with a barren life.
Now I wander all day long,
Across the dingy streets I lay forlorn,
With hopes so bright and fancies wild,
To see my mother emerge from the crowd,
With hands outstretched to hug me once,
And own me ever, this forsaken child!
poem by Valsa George
Added by Poetry Lover
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