‘An elephant can’t walk alone. It has to walk with its herd’
I look out as the melody of the day starts. Plethora of people will come and truly many will touch me but end up pricking me. They will try to harm my soul, the only part of me retired from the rest of the world. Yet I know I will have to face them without giving an inch of my feelings to them. As I look at those people while standing in this mess and sliminess, I realise that I cannot even sit, and heave a breath of relief or fear. Petals of flowers adorn my face, the only aspect beautiful and yet. I want those people, some people, one person- to look at my legs, at my fleshy skin protruding out, the red ring of circles and the deep blows. And understand that these fat legs are about to give up. Perhaps someday they will. I deeply care for those tender moments I still remember. They encompass a staggered wearing love, warmth of which is gradually fading out. The lone tree visible from this shed has lost many of its green leaves.Mahouts pass it day in and day out without giving the water it quivers for. I hope that Ella is still waiting for me under the tree. The one with rosy green leaves and red juicy apples. Yet I am losing on these fragments. Just like the tree in front of me is gradually withering. I care for my soul. What do I have to live for, if I lose it as well?
*This has been penned keeping in mind the state of Joymala an elephant being subjected to abuse in Southern India. His skin is twisted with pliers to make him obey.. Its sad and painful.. I always think what Joymala has in mind..
Penned for W3 Prompt -19