Latest Post, Poetry

Imprisoned Roots

The crippling pain I feel,
As I stand erect, but not equal,
I was unaware, but, how do I?
those days were my tender childhood.
The steel wires, bent and twisted,
the pot devoid of holes, the incessant pruning,
I realized slowly but impotently,
that I was shrinking in proportion, in age, in dignity.
My roots are confined now, numb!
envious of the many giant ones,
buried deep, deep down.
Little did I know, freedom was a choice,
imposed on something by someone,
someone with senses to act right,
the right act upon me, a dwarf now,
everyone calls me a “Bonsai”.

 

                                                                    ~ Sona Alex

                                                                  Tiruchirapalli, India

2 Comments

  1. Nikhil George

    Awesome content! Long way to go!

  2. 💞 good one.. 👏👏

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