Wednesday, 10 November 2010

The Touch

When the belly of the child

On the mother’s lap

Burns with hunger

Laments the breast dried of milk

This is a touch of sorrow

When the mother’s body

Decays on the roadside

A hand caresses the head

Of the tear-exhausted kid

This is a touch of kindness

When the Teacher pats the back

Of the student at the end of a session

Of coughing letters, his throat dries up,

There oozes out a drop of tear in his eyes

This is a touch of affection

When the man touches the heap

Of ashes of his burnt up house

His hands stumble upon the dream

And its colour darkens as he looks on

This is a touch of helplessness

When the husband martyrs

Shedding blood in the battlefield

The grief of the wife who faces the tragedy

Mellows out at the chest of her mother

This is a touch of solace

When his fingers fondle

Through her long hairs

“Today” dies out in the head

Where sense has been dried up

This is a touch of love

When I touch you with my mind

Sitting far away from you

I am touching you

Without touching you

This is a touch of soul.

By Ismail Meladi

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