Poetry

A dip in the holy river

By: Onkar Sharma

sweet-ice-cream-photography-100756-unsplash

He walked by the bridge-rail and mumbled.
He sobbed on the past mistakes and tumbled.
Yet he did hold himself and stopped in the centre
to overlook the eerie waves that did enter
in broad daylight through the discarded waste
that lapped against the abutments with bubbling paste.

At the crossroads of life and death,
He mumbled…bankloan
He moaned…unpaid bills
He fumbled…family and kids
He groaned…job

And, he pulled out the cellphone;
and, he pulled out the credit cards;
and, he pulled out the pink slip;
and, he pulled out the car keys;
Looked at them one last time.

Once again a man was ready to jump into the river;
once again nobody would care nor would quiver.
How many men would refuse to fight and give up;
will an angel enlighten and make them live up?

###

The poem is part of the collection – ‘Songs of Suicide’ – which is a work in progress.

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Categories: Poetry

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