©Seema Jayaraman, Mumbai,19Sep2015
A niggle, astir, unbearable to the soul
the wrong done, unspoken
Surrounded, I stand
A wall, People I care, stare
Fingers pointed, whispers ringing
Frown lit faces, eyes unmet
to hear my wails, Not an ear lent
Woe buried, untendered hands
bend they will, someday
Realize the fiction, hearsay
when not a word true,
so late, someday, they labeled me a shrew
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Verily, the stubborn and with faith advance in life I invite you to read my poems
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Sad fact of life. People lack sympathy even for near and dear ones. Nice.
Thank you Tikuji for sparing the time to read and comment. Thanks