Drift Wood

By Thomas Thottungal

Like a tree brutally uprooted from the verdant banks

Of some swollen river that breached its borders,

And carried away by swirling waters

To be cast into the endless ocean where all rivers end,

Losing its leaves and limbs along the way

Till all that’s left is a denuded trunk.

Not resting yet, but wafted on the foam

Always on the move, to nowhere in particular

Just drifting, riding the crest of wave after wave

Touching one shore today, another tomorrow

Oft marooned by ebbing tides, and then buoyant again

Rammed against craggy rocks at times

Battered and bruised, broken and beleaguered

Strenuously striving yet, to stay afloat till

As time takes its toll and pieces fall off

It finds its final resting place

Scattered over the ocean floor

To be covered in course

By sediments of mud and muck and maritime life.

Such is the conundrum of being.

By Thomas Thottungal