Thatfinger Poem by desamangalam ramakrishnan

He too had a thumb
it was cut off
don't know when and where.
still, he rowed his oar
and helped Mary
to lay Jesus on herlap, from the cross.

He used his hand to hide
from the scorching sun
and thus there appeared
holes in his palm.

But that thumb lost somewhere else
in unknown time
was waiting for his arrival-
Perhaps in the piles of dry leaves,
inside the pile of masks,
or within the heap of worn out wings
of the yesteryears.

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