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The day shall come

I'm there with you, my dear.
I'll hug you whenever you cry,
I'll give my best to save you from the bad guys,
I'll turn my prayer beads for you every moment,
I'll let everybody know what you've been through,
I'll lend my warm shoulders for you to lean on,
Let me carry you on my hips,
I'll show you the huge glowing ball on the dark skies,
it's far far away from the place we live in,
I'll let you dream that far,
And I'll help you live them too.
I'm standing up now with shaky hands,
But all I have in mind is you,
That tear you shed,
That baton you took,
That plea you cried,
That prayer you wailed,
I promise to be by your side,
Not leave you till you rise,
I'll cover myself with your flag,
I'll treat you like my child.
The time shall come,
When you rise up to the red,
Clamp them with your thousand rays,
Ride on your snow lions
and take your people back home.
The day shall come, my child.

Comments

  1. Gayathree, thanks for words of support, loved your writing...keep it up

    ReplyDelete
  2. Gayathree Ganesan, the poem is well written and touching. Thank you for your unconditional support Tibet.
    May you be blessed with goodness in everything.

    ReplyDelete

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FEBRUARY 15th, 2012





















What writing means to me...

As lonely as a cloud, as boring as boredom itself, I was. I grew up as a typical child at school but a very hefty one, I am still the same. I managed to cheer people with my innocence but did not manage to make happy friends to last a lifetime because of my gross physique. I couldn't play as I had no playmates at home and my only hobby was to sit and watch tv.

When I was studying in kindergarten, I used to visit a nearby shop with my dad. My dad was busy shopping for groceries and I engaged myself in observing things around me. The people who had mixed emotions that outshone on their faces, an old man cycling with a lot of strain, probably getting back home, the lady vendor with her dirty saree pinned up to her waist and squatting on the floor, selling vegetables, the autowala bargaining with his potential customer, the green trees which arched high with its countless leaves, the flowers that smile at me on the road side, happy child…