Sankhajit Bhattacharjee Poem 55
Scientific Research Fellow in University of Wisconsin, Milwaukee
BRUN
As the summer heat burns into ashes
the nectar of juicy nature,
my palm received injuries due to burn.
Seniors told me to work, not to act…
Pain of both crucified me
as if someone is hitting two big iron nails
in my palm to fix it with the wooden cross.
Human is rose without thorns,
but with them, one is more ferocious
than poisonous snakes.
My crucified palm is normal now
but the nails are now hitting my heart.
© 2020 Sankhajit Bhattacharjee
Comments
Sankhajit Bhattacharjee (author) from MILWAUKEE on June 26, 2020:
thank you so much
BRENDA ARLEDGE from Washington Court House on June 26, 2020:
Sankhajit,
Great words using mtaphors.
I hope your heart heals too.