A wounded sapling

 

A tiny sapling bruised and injured,

Just a centimeter left

with its sole leaf intact,

It was a storm

on a free roam,--

A careless gardening hand

digging the sand

cut the sapling small

with a careless scythe-scrawl,

And the flowering prospects gone,

The wounded sapling with inaudible moan,

With a conscience asking for reparation,

I wet the soil around the wounded sapling

and carefully take out the thready root,

My effort’s little fruit,--

The tiny root is intact

and promise someday a new shoot,

I replant it with care

in the shadow where

the scorching sun can’t reach

and breach

the little wounded sapling’s fight back.

Sprouts the sole leaf

after a few days of pain and grief,

A new shoot

after the destiny’s miserable loot.

Fight back is easy

if your pain hasn’t turned you grumpy and sleazy,

And intact are your roots,--

The core values and basic attributes;

the fundamentals of one’s faith;

that sublime soul’s weighth,

If these aren’t lost

passed as you through biting frost,

and the storms laid you bare,

Ate your well-deserved share

and cut you down

leaving you with a painful frown

and a single leaf

completely mired and lost in grief,

Even then if your root

doesn't lose faith in a new shoot,

It will draw the sap of life

even from the sharp edges of circumstantial knife,

And new shoots will sprout

with a victorious shout.

But if the root is broken

and the substratum web of your

core values is uprooted and shaken,

Then even a canopy all luxuriant

with sheen and smile brilliant

won’t sustain you

if you have to reshape a life new

after being arrowed by destiny’s arrows few,

In the face of accidental throws of life

and all the uncontrollable strife

try we must

and stay just

clinging to our roots

even against bloody, blinding shoots,

Even while you groom well with swanky boots,

Never abandon you earthly roots,

Good clothes, modern styles

and much concerned about worldly hoots,

Please brother, remember your roots,

Keep it intact and in good health,

For it’s the real wealth,

The cause of all the superficial shine,

The basic sustaining spine,

Spring, hop, drop, lop, mop

and reap the life’s surface crop,

Change colors as much as you like,

Enjoy undulations, dips and hike,

But keep rooted

even while well suited and booted,

Never abandon your core values and faith,

Only this much this poor bard saith.