Poem on City by Megha

I was on a journey, 
A journey written so profound. 
I planned to travel the directions, 
But so was a question hanging deep down around. 

My travelogue started with North, 
Boundaries built so stiff, the people so mundane. 
Tiny houses, visible Barren land, 
Encroachers sea lift, the air sobbing in pain. 

Steps more ahead, I reached the Centre and the East, 
Enriched with history, dampened by the light. 
Old walls told me the story, 
Of superstitious valour, and hidden behind the fright.

Daunted through the West, the end in the South I preached, 
The world here knew riches, with dumb voices beneath. 
My travel ended in delight, but the shadow held its curse, 
It framed a question, an answer to the future adverse. 

The people know what's coming forth. 
The people know the bad deeds lying behind. 
We are the only answer to the dark soot disaster, 
We, the only hope to hold firm our child's misjudged disagreement slopes.