Guilt Poem by bakuli bhakali
Guilt
Each time I pick up those dirty plates
I see the leftovers
And I remember the boy
Digging the dingy box
The young girl stalking strollers
Who looked older than her age
I think of
The baby on her lap
He looked scrawny
And
I get that weird feeling
As if they’re staring
And -
Their eyes rolling
Over those plates and me
They’re burning
Their faces turning red
I hear them screaming
Scolding
I feel them waiting
Until, I clean those dishes
And get set.
The greatest act of charity is charity towards the uncharitable. A lovely depiction of an irony of life - while some folks have more than enough, some others have nothing to assuage the pangs of hunger. A lovely piece of poetry. well articulated and insightfully penned with conviction. Thanks for sharing Bakuli.
I feel them waiting Verily, you are compassionate to feel the guilt and guilt followed by virtuous deed makes us a perfect being....10 I invite you to read my poems
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4/24/2024 2:36:53 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Can those dishes be ever cleaned? We carry the pain into our bedrooms and to our dreams - nay nightmares. There is no peace until the whole world is well-fed. Oh, when that can be? Till then, we are accursed to burn. (10)
ya, that's true!