Rags Of Solitude Poem by Rajesh Gurung

Unruffled and untouched
the cement bench hides a rag slouched
hidden from the world without
a rag dirty and uncouth

You would pass by the bench
Without eyeing it but for the stench
That awakens your loathing
For everything dying and decaying

You would curse the smell
Until the man from the tea stall
Comes out with warm Indian tea
Only then would you see

Something stir and know there’s life within
and wonder at the kindness unbidden
As he savours each sip of the warm elixir
Your heart goes out and you are stirred

He is warmed by the tea of kindness
Meagre in a world of blindness
Yet the light shining in his dying eyes
betrays his nearing leave from worldly mires