A Shrine For Me Poem by Palitha Ranatunge
A Shrine For Me
The beggar at the gate
I must protect to be a
Destitute and frazzle
Forever...
I shouldn't offer him
Nothing except a big coin
For only his survival
I being proud of my ego
Eagerly listening to his
Pusillanimous thanks offering,
His untimely worn out face
His thin skeletal body
His shabby and torn clothes
And infectious wounds
Filled with flies is a shrine for
My prayers and purifications.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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5/4/2024 7:45:50 AM # 1.0.0.1119
