Mercy

Mercy
P K Routray
A beggar on a street corner,
no warm cloth in cold winter,
taking shelter under the trees in summer
sleeping in night on foot path without fear,
once observed a running streams of the passersby
and noticed none had time or energy to tell others a hi.
He felt pity on the maddening crowd’s run
which included many a rich, educated, powerful person.
He thought of his joy
after a meal on getting a pie
searched this joy within each in the crowd
but there its absence made him feel proud.
He saw them running to clubs, bars and casinos,
Then to get peace, happiness and sleep they run to doctors’ for medications
They do not get natural touch of sun, rain and air
the music of cuckoo over the head and nature all-around to stare
How lucky the beggar feels himself, with all these available to him in plethora
he has to only worry for his six inch belly, nothing extra.
Mercy is never a prerogative of a person
with pelf, power education and recognition,