Skeleton Poem by Hans Raj Sharma

Thus
Speak
The bare bones
Look hither!
I’m 68
Don’t you?
Be familiar with
Born free-
As an infant
On the work site
Mother kept me
Safer-
Under the shadow
Of a mango-tree
At one end
Of that farm
Endlessly where
She laboured for
Tough hours
And I hopefully
Gazing
At the passers by
Explicitly
Confined to a place
Crying-
Hungry and thirsty
None except her
Could know
My answer to it
Out of incessant cries
Wiping out tears
From my eyes.

Don’t you?
Summon up
The childhood
Spent playing
In mud with mud
Without seeing
The doors of
A school
Helping
And assisting
For a piece
Of dry loaf
Some times without
At times with
Onion and salt
Over it
Or butter milk
Of the cows
Never chanced
To taste
The taste of milk
Every time half-fed
To be delighted
And thankful
Knowing my answer
Mother sometimes
Sacrificing her share
Sharing with me
And impatiently
Swallowing it
Without caring for her
The only worry
That time was limited
To my hunger
And thirst.

My youth
Sold like hot cakes
All needed
And requisitioned
My services
Exploiting-
Without being paid
Sometime only for food
And shelter alone
Next time
For simple applause
Under compelling
Circumstances-
With no other options
Except to be happy
And compromising
With what god graced
For, couldn’t make
Family of my own
As the hits of time
Unfavouring-
Oddities of society
Allowing me not
To straighten
My hunched back.

One day-
For want of
Basic needs
I buried firmly
Into its grave
My living being
Not to revive again
Unmoved by-
The fame or shame
The calm or storm
The freezing or sizzling
The blaze or breeze
Having no meaning
For love or hate.

Now, left as skeleton
The variety of people
From all religions
Castes and colours
And creed
Do strike at me
Asking for vote-
And a series
Of boring questions
My answer to them
Always the same
As to my mother
Thirst and hunger
Couldn’t be quenched
And satisfied.

-Copy right hrsharma
Ludhiana, Punjab, India