I wait patiently
Not knowing otherwise
As I watch them load
Truck after truck
Of the food I created
My sweat and blood
Nourishing the land of my forefathers
These hawks
Are lurking around
Hustling and bargaining
As I sit and hope
That no accidental scratch
Or blemish
Seals my fate, and those I love
They mock me
And snigger at my helplessness
While I sit
For long expectant hours
Hoping to make ends meet
This year
Even as their gaze sizes me down...
The other fortunate ones
How easily they deny us
How easily they reject
Time after time
Even as they eat
From my hands
My hands are eroded
Alongwith their hunger
My shame, afresh
As the fruits of my toil
I am like my creator
Creation seems to be my only gift
And my only curse...
just when i start to think you've written better stuff.. the end of your write up makes me re-think :)
ReplyDeleteits bitter, but in an ordinary way of talking, like the taste of plain roti or plain rice after too many bites....it is just as it is.....Nice Work!
ReplyDeletethanks you two. i never got to writing this before. this poem didnt take much time. its just telling the story, as it is. like u said puj..
ReplyDeletepain is most beautiful to the one who recognises. probably worst for the one who feels it.