The Grunt Poem by Ajit Das

Coming into the light
from the dark of the womb
a child cries:
its first expression
of being here.

Then it begins to grunt,
breaking into sounds,
trying to communicate
with the mother,
the world outside.

Later it learns to speak,
articulates what it wants.
But the grunt never goes;
it comes out in moments
of ecstasies and pain.

And when, weary of burden,
words finally fail,
it's the body that still grunts,
before the soul flies
out of the bony confines.