The Beggar Poem by Prafulla Sahu

The Beggar



When you throng my door
With a plate of bruise
HE
gores me like a trishul
turning my heart into a tabor
grinding my lips to utter

'So kind of Him
God has barged into a man's courtyard
like a temple'

My palms tremble to blend
at His mission
Tinkling of itching bruise all around
haunt me
I feel
I'm made to pray.

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Prafulla Sahu

Prafulla Sahu

Dhenkanal, Odisha, India pin-759001
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