‘I’ is a festering wound,
Open yet covered lightly
The moment someone touches the ‘I’
Or even looks at it
The pain arises ever so slightly
The being writhes in pain
For the ‘i’ knows no compassion or mercy but only losses and gains
Those who are wounded with the ‘I’
Have only one aim
That the other’s ‘I’ shouls hurt just the same.
An ‘I’ for an ‘I’ is what the world is after.
The ‘I’ looks for its new prey amidst the revelry and laughter.
The ‘I’ wants reverence, relevence and fame
No wonder on all those secret donations we still have those names
The ‘I’ loves pains and fights
Planning and plotting it stays up all nights…
If the ‘I’ infects the others , it becomes a ‘we’
Then it avenges its hurts…through wars and famine and all that it can be.
The ‘I’ tries to trick death by leaving its name even after its passing away.
The ‘I’ wants the world to remember it everyday
How do I heal the ‘I’ in me?
When ‘I’ is the only thing I can see?
Or may be I see ‘me’ in everything, everywhere…
May be I can heal ‘I’ with a heartfelt gratitude and prayer..
-Shailaza Singh