The old man down the street

a poem by Aswini Mishra

Have you heard of the old man down the street?
He was a sight, his frail thin body and worn out feet.
The children stayed away from him,
In his house he wouldn’t let anyone in.
Loneliness made him bitter and nobody for him was welcome,
He was called all sorts of nicknames just for fun.
Nobody wanted to know about his personal history,
Everyone knew he had neither friends nor family.
Nobody really cared about him,
His feeble voice was lost out in all the din.
The reason for all this was that the neighbours knew his dark secret,
And the horror of it no one was prepared to forget.
Though he had paid his debt to society,
He was treated as an outcast and had to live in anonymity.
His sobs could be heard till late every night,
But there was no one to comfort him in his sad plight.
He tried to make peace with his tattered and torn soul,
But society’s rebukes would never allow him to be again whole.
His desire to live died and one day from the world he took his leave,
No one knew whether he killed himself or died of grief.
And today if you listen, you can hear the lanes whisper
Of the old man down the street,
Who suffered an eternity of pain for his one deed.