Pilgrimage

Am I a pilgrim or a wayfarer
in this sanctum or a sanatorium?
Dear mom I was a prisoner for nine months
in your safe waterlogged womb.
But still I cannot swim in the deep seas.
The thorny crown and the cross too heavy for me.
I am only a puppet in the marionette
and somebody draws me here and there.
I am almost tired,
please let it be a freehand
and a freestyle race
without any restrictions.

by nimal dunuhinga

Comments (4)

But in the end, we still have Hope. You will continue in the race, no matter what. What a great poem by a great poet! Wonderful, Nimal! ! A ten.
The light of the human spirit..burns bravely on in spite of all the diffiiculties. A fine poem, Nimal. Kindest regards, Sandra
Nimal: You mention the thorny crown, and heavy cross. You too although you are Budha, we all answer to Christ. We are his slaves, we will never be completly free here on Earth.............Dave
I love the word almost because no matter the crushing world the Warrior goes on ever onward a wonderful poem