Guest Labourers Poem by desamangalam ramakrishnan

It is storming on the forbidden shore
the sail has torn off
some birds have got its rags
to cover their bodies
and still they are waiting for...

Along with them
in this gasping midnight,
these men are also waiting
for a return to their native land.

These men are also waiting,
but with a handful of microbes
in the inner bag of their body
and with the remaining toy of life
within the cotton bag held onto their hands.

On the forbidden shore
where the feathers flown scattered,
they bow down before their blood
which is becoming stony in the nerves,
to be kind enough to help them go long.

On the forbidden shore
these men stay
rubbing their mid-feet
now and then to feel the remaining
of their broken roots.

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