Of Pots and Pans
Taking a derelict path,
With a semblance of security,
Though only a whisker of it
I leave for the past
Which seems not far
But still out of reach
I am thoroughly afraid
For I am to face my decisions again
But
My itchy toes take me back
To the day when I considered myself
A free young man
And
I remember not feeling
Like an empty pot or pan
turned upside down
utterly useless.
I am now
In limbo
Turning back and searching for the time
When I was considered a worthy being
While being extremely carefree and happy
I was as worthy as the old men of the house
And was not thought of as
just a bootless admirer of their art
I was deemed a perfect member
of the highly regarded family I belonged to
for simply riding a horse
And treating the peasants in a cavalier fashion
A king’s man I was accounted
But soon
I had a stubble
I was ready to take on any role
Even if I was offered
The role of a pot or that of a pan
I remained duteous at home
Always at their disposal
But my worth was deemed lesser than a penny
For I remained unemployed
And slow-witted
And soon I let my austere employers
take over my body
And
If I don’t transition into
my past, laid back self soon
They will take over my mind
And I shall be to them
Merely
A vessel that can be used
or turned upside down
And
even shattered
at their convenience.
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