I Am A Forlorn Wreck

By Ananya Saxena

Budding in sand.

A weakling soar.

I sighed almost tanned;

My beginning by the shore.

Not far long,

My shoe came loose.

The storm sang its song,

Moon and tide made a truce.

Took me by my waist,

An endeavour unforeseen.

The sea was in haste,

My wounds left unclean.

Days past by,

I was lost.

Who was I?

My home was its cost.

Boats swam my way,

Sea shanties would ask,

‘Where are you from, aye?’

I could not put on a mask.

‘I do not know my roots,

I am only so young.

My tears the gale loots,

A dry throat and tongue.’

I ponder upon this,

My existence- I cannot relish.

A sense of belonging- I miss;

A self that I can cherish.

Even lingered and poked-

By the marine life,

About the time I was soaked-

Question that twists like a knife.

I would swim away in my sorrow,

As wall of amnesia grew.

This was a home I could borrow,

My wounds, it would sew.

Misery forgotten so soon,

It ceased to hurt me in the core,

I would sing with the moon,

Calm my heart that was sore.

And so I became the ship,

The shanty, the gale, the sea-

That took me by the hip,

And took my roots away from me.

By Ananya Saxena