The Cripple - Poem by Ajit Das
Bent on a pair of crutches
he makes his tentative move.
Stretching the left crutch
he feels his balance,
then with a slow, sidelong jerk
pulls the right hand crutch;
his frail body shivers, then steadies.
After a few steps, he stops,
inhales with a bellowing chest
the fresh morning air,
leaning on the crutches
and the memories of the days
when he was a part of the world.
He now lives outside.
A couple of joggers trot past him.
A limping dog leaves him behind.
The backdrop pins him
a sagging figure, incongruous
on the tapestry of life.
Slowly he looks up, starts afresh.
A rhythm peculiar to him
measures his steps on a scale
of new, resolute move.
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