Pillow Of Dust Poem by Rani Turton
Pillow Of Dust
He lay there unmoving; as still as the falling leaves
Around him drifting onto his weathered cheek.
The ground was hard, his legs were thin
His body wrapped in a dhoti that was clean.
How long had he starved, were his lips parched
A young man bent over him, said something
The old man didn't reply.
Was his village far away? Where were his children and why
Had he come here perhaps just to die?
Had he just decided to walk away?
Was his land parched, his crops rotten
His debts unpaid, his loans looming larger than life
Who could even presume to say?
He had laid his head down on a pillow of dust
He had lain down on a dusty pavement in an unknown town
Were there tears in his eyes, did he think of his wife
Who can even presume to say?
The next day the old man had vanished clean away
His place had been taken by a performing clown.
Copyright: Rani Turton
You have written this old man's farewell with compassion and tenderness. The earth is diminished by his passing. There is no small death in the eyes of the Creator who counts every sparrow that falls. Warmest regards, Sandra
The title of the poem and the sadness become one. So many questions and no answers, only imaginings. How can a soul end a life with no record of his givings and loved ones. You have written this so beautifully with so much empathy as well. 10 Karin Anderson
A powerful and sad reflection of the cheapness of life and the apathy of humanity. Thank you for sharing.
I agree with Mamta, this is a fine piece indeed. Moving and magnificently expressed. I very rarely give any poem 10/10, but in this case I could not resist!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/26/2024 9:15:46 AM # 1.0.0.1119
so many unanswered questions- very poignant written with empathy. tragic indeed. last two lines speak of llife goes on, every one needs to live with dignity. its a failure of the system, when a pillow of dust is all one gets to rest...10++ Mamta