To give a blind man vision
Only to take it away
Give unto a child his parents
But to him in an orphanage stay
Paint the vibrant colours of life
And smear all but grey
Give a man his freedom
Then take his dreams away
They call it caring
Yet bereft of reality
They call it kindness
Inflicted with brutality
I don’t know friendship
I don’t know possession
I only know this kinship
Cannot be labelled obsession
What ho I bleed to death
Or the crops in my tears drown
Life is a dirty word
Pray, caress not this frown
For I saw with these eyes within
Touched the umbilical as a child
The rainbow colours I painted
And dreamt with you as my bride
I call it sharing, I call it daring
This possession the mortgage of the heart
No blood to boil or crops to kill
No won’t which humbles the will
Simply another word for life (with you)
I call it love (don’t you)?

~Vikram C~

More Poems By Vikram