Deranged Moon
K
Kesav Venkat Easwaran
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I see him on the roadside-
clad in his filthy worn-out cloth
I find him crying-
I want to go near him
to ask why-
he now laughs
as if he senses
my unwitting mind
His brain in his deranged moon-
sees his sun in the night-
his days are mostly darkened
in the light hours
I took out my purse
No. What use of money
could he have?
I look around-
welcome if I can find
something of that kind
to salvage my feelings-
a drink or a piece of bread,
a fruit or a meal
that is what he needs
A train thunders
down the metro line
The people unbothered
on their heels
after its
impassive wheels
March 10, 2023
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