Please grant me space, I want to live
freed from past failure. A few forgotten
triumphs, however thin, occasionally glimpsed
thru' polished armour; never a crusading knight
advancing religion, faith or creed, instead,
offering taken-for-granted service
to fellow humans for small recompense.
Sequel to a long preparation in lowly work, inducing
contempt of others in looks, words and deeds.
Married, with dutiful mate sharing the happy burden,
keeping house, bringing up children, now grown and fled.
Recollections - ragged claws of acute acrimony
grate on past-inflicted sores. Let me bury these
now, and find space here, where I want to live.
Copyright © Migel Jayasinghe