A Poem

By Priti Ghosh

Lofty spires of calm and rumination are far now
Only the endless din of daily-care and common woe.
The heights are gated and my flights have ceased
Am chained to this dungeon and its dangerous keeps.

Rare and rarer are the moments where I slip
Into an another or beyond I know not yet.
An ease, a flow, a better way lurks behind and beneath.
My tardy and stumbling walk awaits its birth to gallop
My vital sullied by ills known and unspoken its release.