Member Poem

His spade
wakes up dreams
in the sand. His muscles
roll as the tires of a tractor.
There’s an anxiety proof mind
in his iron body. His roots are mulched
with modesty. Serenity curls up within his
mind’s void. He rests on the margin, chewing
betel. Progeny of the peasants plow pages of Facebook
and WhatsApp, while seeds of concrete buildings sprout
in the fields. Pomp and pride can’t sooth stomachs, people
forget. Robots will land in the limited farms. And children will
laugh at Koran’s textbook picture, half-naked with his legs in mud.

*From my book, "Eternal Fragments", published by erbacce press, UK.

*This poem portrays a traditional Keralite farmer.