The walls were stained with soot,
she sat in the dark corner
cradling a small star in her heart,
sky poured blue in that small room
a world was born there – sunshine and all.
An angel I guess she was to create a world like that
but she rode a bicycle, raced every boy in her street,
hung out the day’s washing carrying the smell of detergent,
her sari soft like a bird’s down filled my nose
with smell of boiled cabbage.
When she lay there in the hospital,
in vain I searched the pile of clothes,
the stacked newspapers, behind shoe racks;
when she touched me, I rippled like silver pool:
her star from the mundane corner of existence.
2011 April PAD Challenge to write a poem of our contributions to this planet in ways small and large