In The Prisons Of Our Own Making

Who vowed redemption from the womb
Sin’s sanctum where genesis began
To the blessed cradle and then sworn tomb
Life’s pilgrimage of a manacled man!

Why fear be the mother of our faith
Bare essence of our ethnic genes
And God that pious cynical wraith
Who dissects us to smithereens!

Besides social professional existence
What’s leftover is still not us
But a sacrament of subsistence
Barest truth of life’s magnum opus!

Tethered kites who never kissed the sky
Lay lost in the dust of forsaking
We’re jailbirds who never dared to fly
In The Prisons Of Our Own Making!

© 2020 Vikas Chandra

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