எழுத்து
விதைகள்
இதயங்களில்
தூவப்படும்
போது
செழித்து
வளர்வது
தனி மனிதன்
அல்ல-
ஒரு சமுதாயம் !

மு. மேத்தா

Monday, March 8, 2021

EXPECTANT SOUL (Written in 2011)

                                                 


I look old.
And became bald.
Lost my hair.
Lost my teeth.
My feathers detached.
And withered my wings
In the storm of sorrow.

Wrinkled rough skin.
Stem grown thin.
Silky leaves rotten.
Scruffy looking I am. 
The Autumn of life
Washed away the
Leaves of comfort
From my Branches.

But,
That's not the end of it.
I still alive.
There is still active blood
Burning in my root.
The wind struck me
Could not blow out the
Fire from me.

I am sure,
The Spring is very near.
I will soon groom - and
My branches will bloom.
The cruel air
Will breeze
In my cool perfume.

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