Conflict

Why do I crab about

what is inevitable

distraught mind and

synthetic pain invited by

dreams and desires:

they will come I can’t block

none have blocked –

acceptance is all.

 

But when the soul is sick

of broken dreams

an unsolicited stabs

on betrayal indifference

as if I am a dispensable toy

to be handled without care?

 

What do I live for

I don’t wish to tarnish images

in my vengeful attitudinal jibes

nor am I selfish.

When I do good

the world blames me

when I do bad

they pounce on me

but when I am

innocent , pure, honest

they ignore me.

 

Am I just a tree

unplanted by loving hands

who come to bite my fruits

cut my hands tick my body

suck my juice and live me alone

for the clouds, sun and wind.

 

I know I am not the only one

to say this in agony

the world is full of such crimes

so is it true finally that

destiny shapes our end

or is there some hidden truth

which I have not discovered?

Sabita Sahu