Everyday on the side lane of a busy road
I wait for people, strangers to me
to act as good Samaritans, to stop by
where I am seated with no one to support.
Across the road is a well maintained shrine
with a carved metal box for devotees to gift
money to the deity for prayers to be answered
to support the shrine that has men to support.
Buses come by this lane with seated people
and as it negotiates the curve where am seated
they throw coins in the direction of the metal box
to support the deity who has men to support.
People coming my way pause in their steps
they fumble deep in their pockets for coins
that have long-lost both, value and shine
throwing them at me, who has no one, to support.
I can see fruits and milk flowing by the gallons
given as holy offerings to the deity of plenty
they spend hours in queue and watch the deity
in all his glory longing to take in more of him.
With an aura of blessings, they come out
as they cross over to me, they just pass over
not one taking a second to glance at wretched me
while some feign to give, and walk out of sight.
It has been quite a few years since I shifted
places and faces, sitting here for alms
to test my devotees but am sad to say
most of them have failed the simple test.