He struggled with his life along
He was cheated by the destiny of Swings blown
He wrapped himself around the tales of his fate
He spent his days waiting for a stranger’s grace.
He had worn clothes with diets and holes for air
On the scales of his skin showed he had a deep thirst burn
He planted him around the traffic light and gates
And waited for the vehicles to stop from the flights, gone late.
They gave him clothes with threads so bare
And he gave them blessings in bundles of prayer
They offered food almost to be thrown off the window plane
But he took even those with the gracious smile again.
The street, our Garbage pail we call
Was his only night bed to lay on all
It was the small world of sunshine his fate had booked,
While everyone in the state called him, a beggar hooked.
I wondered….
How has he spent his days this long?
Did he do anyone wrong?
Why did he end up under this cloud with no roof upon?
He was seeking only but for food, why received a name for fun?
– Barsha Poddar (NEPAL)
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