Right to Dream

The shimmer of the dying moon phases out
Red radiance splashes the horizon
The twitter on the echoing green
The feel of nestling palms
Awaken him at dawn.
A sparse meal of crumbs, leftovers of the day before
Throwaways for bare survival
Healing tears smearing agony
Things he has only known.
Six wretched years of preadolescence trudge
Infested with tinkling cups, chipped saucers, mops, filth
And occasional tips.
Creeping dogged drudgery carelessly tramples carefree innocence,
Throttles the right to enlightenment, dream to enshrine wisdom.
At night the moon descends in his shack
Light anoints his eyes
On it he plants his dream.

Amita Ray is a retired Associate Professor in English and Vice-Principal of a college in West Bengal. She has several academic publications to her credit. An academic career spanning over thirty-seven odd years has given her the insight and critical acumen to engage extensively into literary activities and leave footprints behind. Read other articles by Amita.