As I trudge along
The cobbled streets of Twilight
A waft of the wild wind
Blinds me…but enough
To see
The ragged and the palsied
Quiver
I fasten my cloak
My hands gloved
And trudge towards the warmth of Home
The streets sigh beneath my steps
When a cry, dying of hunger
Pierces like the biting chill
But I drape the listener
And trudge towards the nest
That would never fail to feed
The street lights start to glow
The youthful night strays off
To a lonely spot-
Lust lay on the helpless
Hushed cries of prostitution
Impinge on walls of stone
And I hasten towards my niche
Where no hands would defile
Ahead, the statue of a martyr
Full of life and dignity
His struggle and the long forgotten noble deeds...
Wars spewing blood;
The fading glint from his eyes
Speaks of the ‘Commoner’
Indifferent in the comforts of his sphere
The streets wind
With glaring images of the
Weak overpowered by the strong
The voice of justice lulled
By a rising storm
And I rush towards a shelter –
My only armor
The storm subsides
On the streets damp
Prejudice and hatred
Slither past me
Like demons of disaster
Waiting to claw its prey
I stop not
For my nest beckons me-
Shielded from all
The pathway lay strewn with leaves
Thronging towards a fallen bird,
Giving their warmth
I stop and wonder
To answer my spirit, captive
Would I Let it free
On wings of humanity?
