AN IMMOVABLE OBJECT, AN UNSTOPPABLE FORCE

I was gallant
And always stood tall, walked tall,
Though inside I was utterly paralyzed,
A thing that was unseen before the horde of eyes

The soles of my shoes had long worn out
Strolling the streets, wandering
From one office to another and on to the next

The briefcase tightly held under the underarm,
Undrearms that reeked over weeks of no bathe
Over weeks of no shave
Intentional? Not in the sense but evidently out of inability,

My coat had faded under the sizzling sun,
A true macho I envisioned,
Men do not cry, men do not wreck,
I told myself unabatedly, holding back
Devastating ache, boy I was wretched!

Being a man meant one was a rock,
An immovable object, a force not to reckon,
It meant prevailing under great adversities with no aid,
It meant perching at the highest crest of life and looking
Down over your dominion,
Looking back at the lifelong triumphs with pride,
I was wrong, terribly,
I was deluded and I couldn’t grasp,
I couldn’t discern even after I had endured the cold touch
Of the burning flame,

It doesn’t hurt to ask for a little help,
To share your burden, to yelp,
To know it doesn’t make you any less
A man acknowledging pain,
On the contrary, it makes you what you truly are,
A human being, Man!

Muzamir