The Dawn of Realisation


I was sauntering down the lane, when I saw a beggar,

He was an old man who had a fringe of grey-white hair,

Around his balding matted scalp.


He had a wizened face and a back slightly hunched,

With each movement of his, was a creak of old bones.

He had this resigned look of one, who knew that at his age,

Life had stopped giving and only took away.


And while I witnessed this continental drift happening with his body,

I saw him run over by a speeding car while he was crossing the road.


I closed my eyes then and stood there as if time was standing still

Many people gathered around that lifeless body,

Not realizing that life had already taken its toll when he was alive.


When he was alive, all neglected him.

When he was dead, all gathered around him.

Why? Was it because of his social status or if it demeaned their social status?

They are thousands like him. Neglected, uncared for and deemed repulsive.


Neglect is simply not abandonment, it’s telling someone that

They are not worth it.

It’s about telling someone that his or her lives probably do not matter anymore.

Whether it may be neglect of the elderly or perhaps child neglect,

There’s no one for the neglected person to affirm that they had wept.


When a daughter bud blossoms into a flower

The parent cell, detaches it from themselves

So that they may learn to live on their own

But what they know of its future after having its seeds already sown.


Think about the old man again.

It wasn’t the speeding car, which killed him.

But it was the callous neglect of the society that killed him.

His heart had neglected him. His soul had neglected him.

Because we had neglected him.








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