The Resolute Hag Poem by Vidya Pandarinath

She is an old Woman , past
Some eight decades of hard toil,
Doing everything from labour to fast
To exact from the unyielding soil,
Random greens and grains to sell
With greater words to push and promote
The trifle things she grew in the spell
Not by choice or plan but by rote.

It was a different scene -
Some years ago when she,
Dressed tight and looking lean
Ran about and worked like the bee
Feeding her crippled husband and son,
Farming her land alone within the twilight,
Return to hut, the wide work done,
Only to carry on the backlog at night.

She made baskets and little toy
Least feeling tired all the time
Finding comfort for her man and boy
Thus living, she spent her prime,
One day to lose both the tick -
One deceased , and the other ceased
To be her old-age aid stick;
The lonely creature remains neglected and teased.

The wrinkled hag is not still lost - -
Life for her has a found sense,
Neither fear nor senility could cast
Tiny tense effect on her life dense!
Yes! She has chosen utter destruction
For a mockingly helpless, ductile defeat;
For sure : it is not an easy yield,
Life's battle is fought in an unmarked, invisible field!