Emotional Orphan

Loneliness by Atanu Chakraborty

Orphan
Emotional Orphan
Born intact with every organ
A roof over head
Food & family all provided
Yet never felt loved or if mattered
Never touched & hugged & assured
When bodily sick, definitely for-cared
With food & medicine & worry vexed

Born from the womb of the one
Whose heart severely lascerated
Parents two souls on a journey calliberated
Unaware they carry the precious seed
Of the radiant one born of them

Orphan
Emotional Orphan
Knows deeply the fountain of joy
Looks around at the gloom
Paints own fantasy of life abloom
Imagines miniscule castles, tales of adventures
On the floor tiles, as if living a grand dream

Life awash with gleeful eyes
The shine, the glow and laughter
Made kin & cousins wonder why such rejoice
As if something wrong that always the smiles
Misconstrued & confused tears flew miles

Conforming to belong and pleading
Tears flow as if heart open bleeding
Amazing grace & strength head held high
At times weeping cries that pierced the soul
Tribe mocking now looking wry
All this perfect life you have -and you still cry?

The vibrant outlook on life
Does it strip away the human need
To ever have someone just sob
To be comforted and held close to womb
To be assured, guided & emotions lightened?
The radiant one always chose strength
Now bleary gives up at length
Choice of strength refrained from all & any nurture
Own mind became a tormenting torture

Orphan
Emotional Orphan
Lost in relentless effort to create beauty
Through emotions & relations & dreams
Trying to earn the love in between screams
Taken for granted as blessed & blissed
Gratitude taken, it’s intention missed

Shelter & food & names called family
Burdens of keeping up heritage heavily
To get any love, earn it & yearn it seethingly
Deserve it & now demand it just for Being
Have given up heart & soul for the tribe
Not willing now to live life searing
As if pieced by the cutting knife

All misunderstood only for seeking love
Blamed for indifference & ingratitude
Guilt feeling for just breathing alive
As if unworthy of choosing or receiving any joy
Dripping dried tears of blood from the heart
Brick hard becomes the throbbing head
All this while trying to paint life beautiful red …

 

P.S. This post first appeared on This Glorious Mess on Medium

P.S 2 – This is a contribution to dear Debbie’s ForgivingFridays on ForgivingConnects Her blog is a beautiful space that facilitates forgiveness and peace for all distressed souls.

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