Poems on


a poem by Christuraj Alex

Did the father prodigal of the Bible ever think,
Like Supremo of old, to found his superiority?
Did he convince his repented son, like a weak rose, to shrink,
Under his offense against iron-like authority…?

Having forgiven, generously, all his enemies,
Persecuted, like a sinner; hung on the cross; murdered;
Had ever Jesus, wholly human, entertained fancies,
That his kindness, like grains reaped, will be reciprocated?

There is, like permanent marks, selfishness in me hidden,
When I make, forgiveness, like daily yoga, self-healing!
Nobility in my dealings, like the light, must be seen,
When the sinner I see, like a lost-sheep, found, repenting

I do not, like a blind, condone one’s action. I let go.
Forgiveness that flows like the river of life is my strength;
I accept all, as the vast earth. Yet, I’m not great I know,
Forgiveness, like life itself, is a gift; the heart’s true wealth.

It’s my resilience! Residence! True moral science!
It’s not a full-stop; like a forward flight, it’s true take-off.
It’s my effort! It’s the constant practice of my conscience!
Because of this, like a banyan tree, I’m always well-off.

Let me go, like an ocean, beyond selfish horizons,
And farthest of all finitely visible mundane shores;
Let me understand, like my mother, the human feelings,
Let Renunciation be, like polestar, my guiding force!

“There is none righteous, no, not one.” (Romans 3:10)