U N R E S T

There’s so much going on
So little time to dwell on
The ins and outs of a troubled mind
What do I carry and who to leave behind?

The times are dark, marred with worry
“Fret not, my child,” Mother soothes me,
“The days might be bleak, nights long and dire
We shan’t calm our storm, lest we lose our fire.”

The fear in our minds, hope in our souls
Made themselves home, leaving us cold
Brought to our knees by the crosses we bear
With the chants of a madman, or one deep in prayer.

(The photograph is a slice of my Airbnb in Kandy, Sri Lanka)