By Rini Mathew

THE ETERNAL THOUGHT! 

Language, acts upon one definition, 

nourishing, tradition with premonition.  

Fills her book with pages of wisdom, 

extending a new kingdom. 

 

A torchbearer, a guide, 

to wash away evil tides

Passion, to bloom, 

through multitude rooms of gloom

 

Success speaks in silence,   

 people WRITE of such resilience. 

The power of language,  

unburdens earthly luggage. 

 

It didn’t teach me to write 

but taught me,  what is right.  

To take things with might, 

to overcome trespasses, with light.  

 

Into the realms of candescence, 

I float on words, so effervescent. 

Nothing to part or depart. 

It was a treat, I call it a language tart! 

 

Culture, tradition isn’t proclamation,  

but a magical incarnation

to sauté the right voice,  

and sort through the good and bad choice. 

 

 It leaves behind such trails of thought 

with a prayer to each child of the lot, 

 and becomes immortal, 

 through each child’s portal! 

 

THE DAY SHE SPOKE

Yes, she spoke 

But you didn’t hear. 

She walked in. 

A humble one, so simple  

with a sweet dimple. 

Classmates of all sorts,

chattered, casting lots, 

marking their presence,

with a friendly essence. 

 

She looks away, quiet, but light  

A soft smile spreads on the child

there,  in deep ponderings

which kept all, wondering.  

I sensed, a ray of hope, 

that, one day, she would cope!  

 

Child, so mild, sat in the corner 

shared, cared, and fared well in the corners. 

But she spoke no word, 

bereft of company,  lest they got bored.  

Yet I saw a flame of hope. 

She tiptoed with hope.

 

 A hug, a touch. 

She fiddled with her pouch, 

ignited sparks of yearning,

 setting alight flashes of longing. 

A splash of colours 

on the dull borders. 

 

 This marked her presence 

with a mighty essence. 

All alphabets come to life, 

 abet her canvas to rife. 

A rare compendium of shades 

 splurged as she gently made.

  

Colours spoke of this gem,  

and we spoke of them. 

Tightening her furls of anxiety,  

to files of piety. 

Aloft, she said “free”, 

 the bird sang of it, on the tree.  

 

She danced and swayed. 

The way was finally laid.

A sight far fetched, 

the heights it etched 

with a meaningful tinge of colour 

on a story of valour. 

 

We made her day 

with dreams for this way!

A mask,  could not stop, 

more tasks awaiting atop. 

Our tongues wet by this hot sip 

to take greater dips!

 

Language taught, 

Language sought 

 body, mind and soul, it sanitized

 hope, love and joy, it customized 

plunging into zest and zeal, 

aiding the world to heal. 

 

Yes, she spoke 

And now you heard her!