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A Silent Cry

 Deep in the kiln, dark and dry,

Echoed the sound of a faint, silent cry.

The gasp to breathe, a desolate try

In the blistering heat, making him fry.


The laborer's eyes - wide and dilated,

The particles within it tightly trapped.

His bodily grit disintegrated,

The muscles totally cramped.


The sound of erupting cough- sick and deep,

Reflects hopelessness and fatigue, so steep.

His lungs betrayed, forcing him to weep,

Yet bound to work, albeit gravely sick.


He works for his children, innocent and cute-

With visions of a future bright and astute,

But little do they know how crude

Their dad must toil to earn their food.


Serving his family is his sole key,

A mission to brighten what they see.

Yet, it's a long way to glee

Like leaves swaying on a storm-struck tree.


He must work, fine and hard -

Keeping his health and agony in disregard,

To ensure his successor's trump card,

Allowing them to fly like a bird.


--- by Sakshar Das

30th March, 2025




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