The Migrant
A Poem
He is a monkey in the herd of elephants Jumping from tree to tree in a wild forest
Some nights are nightmares Rest of the nights are sleepless Every night he thinks about the outcome The outcome of a decision he made
He holds one hundred questions in his scaled-down memory but one underlying answer surpasses them
The responsibility, the responsibility ties him with numerous protocols A huge price to pay
He isn’t a dweller he’s a vagabond His family tie dies in the shallow waters
His dirty shoes speak volumes of untold stories, unstated fears and undone tears Sometimes even his shadow sways him but the bags in his shoulder feels heavy He had to dissolve these bags and bags of salt to give a sweet candy to his little one
The untrod path never shakes him The ragged coat never shakes him The unpredictable future of his offspring topples him
Amid all the chaotic disruptions in his life he holds his bag of to-do lists in his shoulder,
Walks straight in his path carrying a bright smile with a soul which is never willing to quit ‘Cause he is the migrant!
©Anitha Sankaran 2019
In response to the prompt “Third Person Narrative Poem” by David S. —
Thanks to Lisa Tomey and David S. for sharing us about the poet Gwendolyn Brooks and her beautiful works.
