The Recycled Soul

January 7, 2018
By fadilhashmey BRONZE, Lahore, Other
fadilhashmey BRONZE, Lahore, Other
2 articles 0 photos 0 comments

The swivel of the cycle wheel
Like the circle of his soul
Round, yet monotonous
Punctured with holes

The brakes on his bike
Too worn out to work
Just like his life
Driveling in the dirt

Disheveled and distraught
With an overgrown beard
Desperately clutching for some coins
Functioning well beyond his years

His sunken cap
His wearisome eyes
Tirelessly waking in the circle of drudgery
Till his penultimate demise

Empowering on
With reason to quell
An elderly man
Yet, what remains is a mere shell

Plastic, wood, and assorted junk
Dust, dirt and he, still distraught
Feeble coins earned
His life - a war through which he has fought
The shoes he wears
Tattered and dismayed
Ensuring that his hoard of cardboard doesn’t fall
All across the way

All day
Everyday


The author's comments:

I wrote this poem on a person who is essentially a garbageman, yet plies his trade by collecting recycled material which he sells on. In a third world country such as this, the concept of recycling is still to progress, thus in recycling the leftovers of those who conquer him, he, in a way, recycles the remnants of his life i.e his soul. It is difficult to imagine what sort of a life one must live wherein they basically buy garbage only to sell it on for a measly profit, and this poem tries to capture the struggles that he faces during his daily work. Even one he has reached the age where he is barely able to function properly, he -quite literally- cannot stop working, for death remains only a whisker away. Despite that, he still has the will to keep moving forth. 

By: Fadil Hashmey


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