Nov 26, 2017 Original Poetry
Nestling
©November 26th, 2017
By Vijaya Sundaram
The air clung to me like an icy lover
As I awoke to today’s call,
Strangely exhilarated, but cautious.
Hope, a baby bird, raises its beak.
I nestle beside it, its companion.
Nascent and unborn though I am,
I feel my companion stir beside me,
Hear broken shell crunching
Beneath its little feet, as it moves.
I feel its huge need, its primeval squall,
For it is calling, it is hungry.
Politics scares me, and people
Are unpredictable. Though ambition
Once thrived, my dreams of what I would be
Have given way to what I am now.
I have nothing more to give,
Not for anyone. I want to do good,
To be of use, to make a difference,
I am still trying, after my long sojourn here,
To crack this shell open, to crunch it down.
I am not Hope. I am something else –
A glimpse of a Promise. Perhaps.
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(With a nod to Emily Dickinson.)
Tags: #Ambitionless, #nestling, #OriginalPoetrybyVijayaSundaram