Death On The Road Poem by Dr. Yogesh Sharma

I watched a man crying on the road,
Trying to wag his youthful but aching parts;
So to lift his head again gracefully,
But landed on a busy road on the other side.

Similar to his aging father, or akin to his trembling mother;
Or possibly a minute ago to suffer the curse of time,
Of the market's bar shop where I stood shaken;
I gazed at him stagger up, struggling to stand.

To put on his shaking-torn feet;
I heard him writhing —as if to call, someone;
Distant or near, someone who had bye-d him;
Not so long ago on the road.

Of the newly-purchased bike, speedily running;
Taking the man to his bread and butter,
But no choir or counter-point, chorus to sympathize;
With his accelerator. The rocky canvas.

I looked upon the man, he appeared so powerless to me;
And I felt that I should maybe save him,
If I were so scary to simply watch,
I do not know whether the man will be saved.

Only to believe that life is first,
I gave my commiseration and my attention,
Something eternal ordered me not leave him,
On his wounded fate or in death's hands.

As I rushed about the man's chances for endurance,
A dark black red death car plunged down the road—
Bringing past the death shadow on the isolated red road,
Its bloody tires delivered death to the man.

Crushing the broken man,
Annihilating him into a single, red stuff;
Decorated and embossed into the violent furrow stripped,
And I became an actor in this absurd drama of modern world.