Caught in the middle,
With idle eyes,
Defenseless against onslaught of media barrage-
Actually, the slandered seeks umbrage.
While the conflicting forces of push and pull,
Confound as they rage on-
The self also splits in multiple dimensions,
As halves remain astrew.
Objectivity and subjectivity,
In time,
Through time-
Flow on bringing guilt to forefront.
You see the Other,
In a plight,
And long to shelter against the storm-
But you wonder,
Where's your own courage tonight?
Words, measured only to hurt -
Conceal the force of passion,
That now mocks.
Askew, the way remains vague too-
All images of hands held through darkness,
And a promise to be a foothold-
Suddenly shout out their own fault-lines.
You take the blame on you.
Knowing that the Other,
Needs more than solace.
You distance you from self-
And see the events unfold-
Like a Pied Piper's story-tell.
You listen to the latent rhythm-
That has always marked the sojourn.
And long to comfort the Blessed.
Is that the role now?
Of being a spectator at sidelines?
How much would 'escape' help-
Against someone's folly in making her own paradise
And the Other's overwhelming compassion,
To bring Happiness to all,
Sans his-lone-self?
