Defaced

It’s not unusual
for the new
to be born again-
overcome the old-
be without a
past.

And prosperity
of the old to cling
on to the rusty anchor
of eternity- tried,
tested,
sacred.

I
in the middle,
tame and,
tantalized
by
both the camps,
stuttering
at an absurd prospect
of being
a soloist.

Who
couldn’t look afar
to forgo
now, and now
to surpass
the might
of the right,
to disavow
holy skirmishes
of what is left of
the left.