The Debt

a poem by Pankhuri

It was dark and cold,
But still I was bold!
I crept in to murder my terror,
Who else? but the crown bearer.

But he tricked me,
And I couldn’t even hurt a bee:
Instead it was I who was caught,
And put into the dungeon to rot.

After this, they nailed me to a cross made of wood,
Just the way they did with Jesus who did all good.
But I was a wretched criminal, I am still,
For money I could even kill!

When they broke my legs,
And left me hanging by the pegs,
I became fierce,
And dried all my tears.

Then satan came to came to mind,
I revolted not against the king, but whole mankind!
From then on I killed for pleasure,
To kill I took every measure.

But the king caught me again,
And tried to hunt me- in vain,
For I was rescued by the queen of the kingdom beside,
And to the king about me, she lied.

She helped me recover in every aspect,
She was the only one I ever did respect.
I was rude, but she was sweet ,
She helped me rise up to my feet.

To stop desiring, to stop hating, to serve one’s enemy,
Was her way to attain security,
She said that would make one strong,
And give him mystical powers.

She could break a handcuff,
Without touching, but concentrating on it.
Of course I had seen every broken bit;
The way I had seen a broken neck,
Left open for the vultures to peck.

The king had done this,
I know and again I say,
For this he shall pay!

I had once seen her shooting arrows without a bow,
She was Godly and could do so,
But I couldn’t; I still can’t,
You know why?
Because I hate, I love, I desire,
Because I am HUMAN ‘o’ great sire!