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Poem

One weary dusk, after a day of teaching’s strain,
I pedaled my bike through the traffic’s refrain.
The smog of exhaust kissed my tired face,
As car horns screamed in their frantic race.

The gut feeling above my head wanted to pry,
“Why not take a risk? Just give it a try.”
But then I was right, the path of my wandering feet
Went wrong all the way to another street.

I recall my old self in a cemented jungle
Of a filthy city- I had never learned to juggle.
Where people lived bound, their dreams denied,
Captive to sorrow with no place to hide.

No matter how hard I pedaled my way,
I was stuck, unable to move or sway.
Not smog, but poverty clung to my skin,
A cruel fate I never chose to begin.

Here, plates would shatter before roosters would crow,
Un-gargled mouth would bicker with no peace to show.
There’s religion, yes, but why so crude?
Why is life filled with bitterness and feud?

It’s dusk again, and clouds fade from sight,
Mama took the blow from my father’s palm.
While her empty stomach crumbled, his clenched fist,
A tragic tale no meal could fix.

Where’s the one who wandered astray?
Regretful now, like a prodigal’s way.
Turning back to the road I know,
To a home where light will surely show.

The dawn breaks through, a radiant beam,
Guiding a soul from a hopeless dream.
But the path ahead is narrow and steep,
With faith as my only treasure to keep.

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