Shelter Poem by Subrata Ray

When in crisis, for my love’a wounds,
I step to a nearest oasis,
With surest hope, for solace and support, -
The least kind of earthly bliss.
I beg their opinion, the strength to my stay,
To forget, to overcome and to be gay.
All desert me, and a few say, I am wrong
Smooth, happy, easy, -they are in the fleeting throng.
My heart tears, my soul can’t bear
The alchemy, the cunning of my dears.
Shelter, shelter, I cry and whine,
Answer echoes, ”Nay, but flesh and wine”
I can’t deny, they lull the sense to sleep,
For my inability, I sit alone, and weep.
Then I open some pages of great man,
If there is balm there, find I can.
I could read the mystery of this land,
In a series of stations do they stand.
This leads me to see the things in proper stations,
I get impelled with new feelings, new notions.
Nothing in life is so grand and high,
To know the self, escape, and fly.
None Shall I love, none shall I hate,
I would never sit at my mind’s gate.
Subrata Ray.Mousumipara.Uluberia.West Bengal.India.