The Road

An evocative poem by Lipsa, exclusively for Different Truths.

Part – I

I could keep walking this road
Maybe pick a flower or two;
I may step on a few thorns
But I’ve got my shoes on
And I can turn back
When I start to tire.

Mondays are always hard
Just the way mundanity tends to be
But there will be Fridays,
Saturdays and Sundays
To slack
And get out.

I see trees
That never stop growing
Repeating their cycles
Year after year;

I see people getting old
Repeating their cycles
Year after year after year.

I know where this bridge leads
Each step crumbles the one before;
I will pick up some flowers
Here and there
Step on so many thorns

But I haven’t got my shoes on.

Part – II

The last time I walked this road,
I thought I could go on
Endlessly;
But to reach my destination
I had to leave my shoes behind.

There are eyes everywhere,
People will always stare
And one of these days
I will have to look up;
But let me keep my cloak on
If even for just this day.

I haven’t the ardent courage
Of a spring bud
Spreading novice wings
That its fragrance may fly –

My leaves
Have fallen long ago:
Wrapped in a blank winter,
I stretch my naked hands
Towards a gloomy heaven;

And cry
Till my lungs ache:

Nobody listens,
No God cares.

I know I have to walk this road alone
But if I let my crutches go
Before reaching that sparrow’s nest
I’m afraid I won’t walk at all.

Photo design Anumita Roy