Walking on a tight-rope

For what seems ages now,

I have tried to be poised;

To be secured;

To hold myself together.

 

Blown by the gust,

I swayed and trembled;

Wobbled on till

I could find my balance.

 

Once stable,

Heaving a sigh of relief;

Took a minute to

Catch my breath.

 

Looking across

To the other side,

Couldn’t fathom anything

Through the mist and haze.

 

The abyss below called out to me;

Encouraging me

To let go, to fall,

Awaited eagerly to devour me

 

The distance seemed endless;

Exhausted, disheartened, overwhelmed

Many a time

To let go was the best option

 

Nevertheless, I hung on.

Then the soft soothing Zephyr

Came by to comfort me

I basked in the warmth

 

Rejuvenated; filled with life

I edged on.

Looking for reasons to go on

I moved on.

 

Finally, I reached.

But have I really found my destination?

Is this where I wanted to arrive?

Is this the light at the end of my tunnel?

 

My rope still sways.

I still want to jump off.

Yet, Looking for reasons to go on

I hang tight to My Tight-Rope.

By Manik Misra

Manik Misra is someone who enjoys travelling, meeting people, savouring different cuisines and living life queen size!

About the poem: Most tight rope walkers migrate from their native places for better income opportunities. Many were a part of the recent painful exodus. This poem is an attempt to understand their plight.