Painting Of Pain............. Poem by lalitha iyer

there was a sketch of pain
on the wall of a hall
it was veiled as none could stand
the agony traced in the pane

they guessed the unseen
the unknown
some said its the portrait
of Christ Crucified
who bled to death
some said its the hungry millions
from Africa, all bony and ribbed
with little semblance to life and living thread

some felt it must be Oliver Twist
with round tears cornering his looks
some felt it must be the Dead ones of Chernobyl
or Bhopal or Hiroshima or Nagasaki

I thought there must be the colour of blood
and somebody sobbing and writhing with aches
some fractured heart or some broken limb
or some punctured life or some pennyless beggar

soon the painting came to light
there was a millionire with pain writ on his forehead
he was young, he has no broken arms
nor any bleeding wound
but he was sad as a stone
for he had no offspring cloned
to hug or to kiss and bless the home
with the world of love and gurgling mirth.