Poetry

The shivering hands and shaky voices are left alone, nowadays

By: Anupama Mishra

The days are unpleasant, perilous and grave for the old.
Having been deserted and left
he is avoided like an abandoned house
with its broken doors and sagging porch.
Poor old, considered as an oxidised lock,
is now felt unsafe, unsound, and fallible for the new dwelling.
Although he is like an old peepal tree, the bodhi tree
Which offers no food but offers the shade from the scorching sun.
That’s why it is deserted, not being able for the fertility ceremonies
Like marriages and childbirth,
But in the reality he is the soul like the peepal tree,
never dying, never renewing itself.

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Categories: Poetry

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