To The Gardner Poem by Binayakumar Mohanty

Long past left You
on the way
your dream garden
O'rustic gardener!

Stop! Stop!
Don't sprinkle water
on the dying
sprouts and buds
as it's not you
who they want.

You are the relics
of the past
born to dust
no longer needed for
the trees they plant
plastic as they are.

Need no water
need no air
petals glued together
are perennial
break apart as you
sprinkle them on.

What You know
of books and looks
of policies and innovation
they are none of your business

O'the uncivilized,
uneducated
as they speak of you.

You are the slave
who need love
need peace
need coexistence
not they
as they are unlike you
civilized and educated
they claim.

How dare you
expect kids and old
weak and bold
rich and poor
be together!

They have weeded out
live shrubs and trees
and flung all the
dreaming buds
as they don't want them
to nourish and flourish
in their schools of thought.

You want to dream dare and love
you can't break their school
You fool.

This planet is not yours
they say
You go to hell
for another
with dagger and spade
with your plough you
bow before them
lest, they will
throw you out if
you try to grow
buds to bloom
and fragrance to loom.

Stop, stop
O' gardener!
Stop growing
stop dreaming
It is not your world!