It matters much who earns that bread
And the salt that measures its ethos
A father’s heart more often bled
To baptize pain of his manhood’s loss!
He’d learnt to stare at walls always
At the graffiti of his destiny
Whilst a saintly social order says
“My working wife is my ignominy!”
How well he hid his misery
Between the rites of joy and pain
An outcast man’s Chemistry
Is a sum of many a human stain!
A misfit in the moral class
Ever since he missed life’s caravan
He gave up existence alas
My Father Was A Jobless Man!
© 2023 Vikas Chandra