Deranged Moon Poem by Kesav Venkat Easwaran

I see him on the roadside-
clad in his filthy worn-out cloth
I find him crying-

I want to go near him
to ask why-
he now laughs
as if he senses
my unwitting mind

His brain in his deranged moon-
sees his sun in the night-
his days are mostly darkened
in the light hours

I took out my purse
No. What use of money
could he have?

I look around-
welcome if I can find
something of that kind
to salvage my feelings-
a drink or a piece of bread,
a fruit or a meal
that is what he needs

A train thunders
down the metro line

The people unbothered
on their heels
after its
impassive wheels

March 10, 2023