The cool wind,
I could feel it with eyes closed
Looking down, I could see the stars,
Reflected in the water at my feet.
It was an oasis,
After miles of trudging
I caught up the water
Saw the reflection in my palm,
Only to realise …
It was a mirage.
The trees were gone,
The sparrows no longer chirped.
The little brook that was here
Turned into a bed of sand.
I saw the dusty wind,
Blow across the skies.
This was my legacy,
A handful of sand my inheritance.
The land my ancestors described
Now just a mirage.
—
Read more on #urbanization here.
Poetry lover? Check out Gitanjali: A Collection of Indian Poems by the Nobel Laureate
