a poem by Satheesan Rangorath, India - poetry writer, author, poet

Walking a long way to destiny
Lions halt often for a review; a look back

I saw myself puffing, fuming, and gasping.
The age stretches along on the body.

What have I done all through this journey?
Nothing but discard heaps and heaps of garbage.

A lot of litter, many spits, words so harsh
Hurting many in cruel episodes, polluting

At last, I am here waiting for you; losing identity
leaning on a stalk of uncertainty

Give me a hand. Give me a hand.
Rescue me to the fold of your mercy.

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