Ankita Khanna

Rookie (11/2/1998 / india, nasik, maharashtra.)

Belongs To Me. - Poem by Ankita Khanna

Over the mountains as he strides,
I hear this old man's voice,
Pearcing though eyes through envious spectacles.
He calls my name, I feel betrayed.
He calls again,
Again and again,
Till I by my unwillingness am forced to turn.
He closes his eyes, his deep marrow seems to be ice.
Father this sain't is to me, Yet a devil indeed!
Who is he?
I know him deep,
His envious eyes,
His trembling voice
Pearces my eyes and ears
And he seems so dear?
Who are you father? I ask,
My heart recollects
He is the conciousness I had betrayed,
The one I had mistreated and blamed,
Quite to my shame he calls my name again,
And in my tearfrull eyes I see him hugging me,
Canoodling me as though I were his child,
Why then did father you leave me?
My jealousy, my SANCTITY, my love my hate.
Deep within he utters the same
My name, again and again
Who are you? How come so close?
Nothing unusual to him,
I am his child all the same..........
He cries in the night to my disdain,
Breathing in fear,
Giving out prayers,
he is that old man, whose skin has many layers...

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Langston Hughes


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Poem Submitted: Thursday, August 30, 2007

Poem Edited: Saturday, April 2, 2011

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