Inheritance Poem by Prasenjit Roy

I don't like my works anymore-
My mind is not obeying the limits of four walls,
I want to wander through every lane of the world,
The unknown keeps me calling,
my pocket answers with silence.

My dreams own vast maps,
my means—
only a narrow sky.

I wish-
I had inherited
one river,
one forest,
one hill,
and the endless sky above—
left behind by my ancestors.

I would have traded my hill with God,
just to feel cloud-breeze
flowing over unfamiliar heights.

I would have exchanged my river with Him...
to hear the murmuring waves
of distant waters.

The fruits of my forest
would quiet my hunger,
and the sky—
it would be my shelter,
free of rent, free of questions,
for it was always mine.

Then travel would need no money,
because the world itself-
would be my inheritance.