Big sister only to me
The only person I had to be,
A big sister to was me
It took me so long to see
There was once a time I thought I couldn’t be what little me needed.
Unachievable expectations imposed
Just as they were before me
The only expectation I met was that I would fail.
Fitting punishment was to continue to endure the existing torturous jail.
Survival of the fittest or the cleverest was the regular game,
Never was I the cleverest
Always the dumbest.
My efforts to protect or lead went unnoticed or criticised,
Soon I was ostracised.
Me and them.
All of them.
Lost of identity.
There seems to be no one to blame,
I was being prepared for my biggest responsibility.
To take care of me.
Not for me to take care of the other three.
As I love and care for little me I am thankful
For every expectation,
I failed to meet
(c) P Bathina 021019
Poetics describes a whole range of engagements with life that are storied, reflective and filled with imagination and inspiration, as opposed to analysis in the strict sense. When science rules, the magic fades. When thinking ascends the throne, the soul may atrophy. Yet poetics is not irrational – it is a take which reaches into a different aspect of our humanity – one where we can celebrate that which moves us, not dwell on what limits us. Expect surprises. One or many may lead. None or a few may follow and then decide to take the lead. This is a fluidity to break the mould of rigidity. Join us on this journey. Let us hold hands boldly and join voices transformatively. Prabha will be leading us. Feel free to join us.
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