Soul in Shackles

a poem by Sumandodril

The medical community washed their hands off me;
Little they understood the human brain.

Concluding I was not fit to think;
“Think Like Them”, think normally.

I lay there like a rotten vegetable;
My future in the hands of doctors and
The interpretations of medical instruments.

Loved ones trying to contemplate the unexplained;
I lay there motionless, helpless, yet alive;
A silent spectator of my very own life.

Medical treatment, a waste of time and money;
Heard some soul suggest, “THE LAST RESORT : ERWADI”

Time and place, lost their meaning to me;
To see and listen, my brain’s dying functions.

Hopes raised by success of traditional treatment;
Flickering flame of a fast melting candle.

I still lay motionless and lifeless;
Little difference, the surroundings had on me.

Amidst so many souls, each a distinct star;
Their only mistake; not understood by others.

Tied up in shackles of rusting metal;
No one deserves it, punishment till death.

Dragging life in mangled metal;
Unaware of their own existence.

I still lay there motionless;
Days, weeks and years pass by.

Destined to see light and darkness one after the other;
To hear the cling-clang of shackles nearby.

To live or die, little difference to anyone;
Forgotten by the once caring loved ones.

THANK YOU, GOD, for creating me a mortal;
For ETERNITY, this life would have been worse than hell.

Accept the silent prayer of a misunderstood soul;
Free my soul from these earthly shackles;
And lead the way to the heavenly light.