Who Needs This Poem?
A free-verse poem
I rode the bicycle⠀
on the beech-strewn roads,⠀
with the April evening breeze⠀
stroking my long tresses,⠀
adrenaline gushing throughout,⠀
and my cheeks a deep crimson.⠀
I had a few bucks⠀
to buy maps and crackers.⠀
India map, World map.⠀
Political map, Physical map.⠀
Climatic map, Economic map.⠀
While I forgot the names⠀
of the different crackers.⠀
⠀
There was a song of ecstasy⠀
in my eyes, as I tried to take⠀
my first right turn,⠀
on those curvy roads⠀
that formed a labyrinth.⠀
As I turned and twisted my body⠀
like Cauvery river on the map,⠀
I lost my balance to the winds,⠀
and dashed on a moped.⠀
My right wrist caught between⠀
the left brake lever and handlebar,⠀
and my shrieks of ‘help! help!’⠀
Yet all I could see was⠀
the fallen youth’s confused eyes,⠀
fear pounding against his ribcage,⠀
as if he had wounded me⠀
and his life would never be the same.⠀
⠀
He drew a map of scribbles⠀
with his trembling fingers⠀
on a patch of brown mud.⠀
His eyes were beacons of an enigma.⠀
His lips, a map of helplessness,⠀
as he tried to whisper something.⠀
His arms never reached out⠀
to pick me up from the ground.⠀
His demeanor invoked in me⠀
a strong urge to end the moment,⠀
though I was finifugal by nature.⠀
⠀
My first fall,⠀
my first brush with unkindness.⠀
I never knew who lifted me up,⠀
but I know it wasn’t the youth,⠀
who had asked me silently,⠀
Who needs you? Keep screaming.⠀
Like, I…
