The Little Bird Poem by Rutvi Padhy

With broken wings it flies around,

While the shooter marks his prey,

In an incased realm it fights for life,

Too aghast to wish for freedom's ray...



In a feared flight, it beats its wings,

From high above, it gazes at its comrades,

Now most lie on the rugged ground,

Too dead to fly away...



Yet the shooter shoots, shamelessly,

Immorally, he shoots and plays,

Another down, more kills to go,

The brutal one abides to his corrupt ways...



Oh little bird...you must be so tired, hurt,

How I wish I could ask you to rest,

But the insolent man persists to live,

How I wish I could free you from his chains...



'Oh wait! '

'Look the beast is going! Oh goodness! '

Guess he's bored with his insensitive game,

'Little bird...thank god...you can stop now, '

Finally...you may get some rest...



Yet queerly, the bird continues to fly,

In an aimless path, it still drifts with pain...

'Little bird! Stop! '

Yet strangely...the bird flies insane...



Now dear one, if you wish to watch the bird even today,

You'll find it prolongs to fly in a haphazard maze,

You may call the bird too numb to hear,

It wouldn't listen...

Sadly, it got too grooved to the devil's ways...