Prisoners

The night creeps under the skin
Limbs stiff, eyes wide awake
As the day dawns and alarms blare
The prisoners arise to face another day

The scramble begins from house to house
The screaming, the jostling, the angry shouts
Half eaten plates,  half made beds
Empty homes waiting for the night

Hordes and hordes of hopes and dreams
Of plans and worries, of needs and wants
Neckbands chafing against the raw skin
Achy feet stuffed in high, high heels

Pretensions and schemes, defeats and triumphs
Each day continues in a battle after battle
Some lay dying, others are wounded
Bitter, bitter hearts live for another day

A day when there'd be freedom
A day when there'd be life
A day when fulfillment can be
Savored with delight

But the day will never come
For the nests will forever be empty
The little birds who seek to smile
Would have flown away forever

The prisoners will then
Have  count their own wrinkles
The joy of the triumph, the ache of defeats
Will fade away as do their eyes

Arundhati (July 29 2017)