Care-Free; But Why Me? Poem by Leslie Xavier

I go visit the waves to wash my feet,
and with it the pains of a day.
Which began with songs so warm,
and midway turned cold as ice.

By the waves Da Gama crossed,
watching the splendour of the Arabian Sea.
This place was were I learnt to run;
holding hands of my guiding stars.

But today is so dull and grey,
and the twilight sky is gloomy too;
No crimson only thunder and show,
It opened up as I took the sand.

Gods are kind to me today, I feel;
this rain is something I badly need.
It will give me a cleansing bath,
but more than that it hides my tears.

Why do I cry, when I’m at home
tears are for the days to come.
When I move back to my “Hell on earth”;
with no one there to hold my fort.

Hell of a place, but why so,
somewhere you have earned so much.
What’s that I have gained out there
Other than silver and broken words.

Months and months of rut – bland and deep,
had made me nearly the zombie kind.
The ones you see smiling with care,
not to feel but to eat you alive.

I do am getting wasted too,
rotting inside from neglect sheer.
From the people I turn with hope,
now and then for a little love.

That’s been my story so far,
in a town, where “life is fun”.
Not for me, no play in the sun,
from the time I left home for more.

Why was I left care-free here,
when all I wished was something else.
Money fame are nothing here,
when you don’t have kin to share the sport.

Do you belong there, people ask,
the place has made you man of say.
But the city “sweet” had cancer-ed me,
with a deadly one that eats your soul.

Now why me, of all the ones,
I’ve never taken things for grant.
Everything I cherished, true I did,
but it all changed as I sailed out East.

Now the cruel bit is here,
I go back there as I’m a man of word.
I chose pain over love and bliss,
just cos I’ve duties there.

But why follow the rule of honour,
when you can take the way of love and desire.
But being a man of fiery values,
I decide to take the coal-walk.

Fool I am to miss care,
more of a fool to avoid love.
And that too for a life whose worth,
is measured by your byline count.

Still I will make this trip,
in a few days time, to the city so dark and dim.
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,
I’ll soon be that, it’s a matter of when.

But till then I will eat it all,
the fruits of all my toil in sun.
Things which I don’t deserve,
I’ve never been that kind, you do know right.

But life ain’t fair for the good old men,
who never run behind foolish gold.
That again makes me ask,
Why me, I wanted care, nothing else.

Why am I cast away in soot,
when I deserve to be in the land of dew,
where wine flows, in rivers of love,
and care-free we’ll never be there.