Pilgrimage Poem by nimal dunuhinga
Pilgrimage
Am I a pilgrim or a wayfarer
in this sanctum or a sanatorium?
Dear mom I was a prisoner for nine months
in your safe waterlogged womb.
But still I cannot swim in the deep seas.
The thorny crown and the cross too heavy for me.
I am only a puppet in the marionette
and somebody draws me here and there.
I am almost tired,
please let it be a freehand
and a freestyle race
without any restrictions.
The light of the human spirit..burns bravely on in spite of all the diffiiculties. A fine poem, Nimal. Kindest regards, Sandra
I love the word almost because no matter the crushing world the Warrior goes on ever onward a wonderful poem
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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8/27/2026 1:23:19 AM # rel_20260826T082754Z_99b456e
But in the end, we still have Hope. You will continue in the race, no matter what. What a great poem by a great poet! Wonderful, Nimal! ! A ten.