They tell me I should already know the road,
though I’ve just laced my shoes for the first time.
They laugh when I stumble,
asking why I haven’t run a thousand miles yet.
I carry nothing but tomorrow in my hands,
but tomorrow is too light for their scales.
They nod at old stories, wrinkled with years,
and close their doors on voices still learning.
It’s funny, really—
to demand the fruit before planting the seed,
to want a song that’s already an echo.
I try not to mind, I keep walking,
pretending I’ve lived a hundred lives,
while I’ve barely begun this one.
About the Author
C. Swathish is a published author and award-winning poet from Kerala. He writes about human experiences and society, using everyday moments to explore deeper truths. His work combines simplicity with thoughtfulness, offering readers a clear and reflective look at life and its contradictions
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ReplyDeleteC. Swathish’s poem beautifully captures the experience of feeling out of place when starting something new, in a world that values experience over fresh attempts. The poet’s simple, thoughtful lines illuminate the unfairness of expectations placed on beginners and the quiet strength required to move forward anyway. The imagery—like “to demand the fruit before planting the seed”—is evocative and wise, resonating with anyone who has felt misunderstood or rushed on their personal journey. This poem offers comfort and insight through its honesty and gentle resilience, making it a moving reflection on growth and human contradiction
ReplyDeleteChills, This so perfectly describes the struggle of starting fresh in a world that expects expertise. 'I carry nothing but tomorrow in my hands' – what a powerful line. Rooting for this one!
ReplyDeleteStory of every unemployed person. Beautifully told. Great work.
ReplyDelete♥️thanks
DeletePooy
ReplyDelete🖤
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