(A poem dedicated to Khadiza Merry)
They all heard that,
Jesus is riding on a bus, these days.
Vinay from the remotest eastern village was an eye-witness
He just acknowledged today, in confirmation.
I was counting those quarters. One by one.
The unpaid dues for the neighborhood store...
When silence honors every single voice out there
One can be a meaningful one for afterlife, with a storekeeper.
And slowly,
I sustained.
I was tamed within
With those hot, warm sweaty humid minutes.
And I gifted a land of own, aged for long, to the storekeeper.
Will it be an identifiable generosity accompanied with the right hand?
A specially biased right hand?
There are need of mirrors, here and there.
These attires, dress etiquette and dress colors too...
Under the slender palm trees, the virgin Mary cries here, also
Somewhere, a frozen conversation dies in silence, with a noisy air-cooler.
Categories:
storekeeper, care,
Form: Free verse
Inside the room in the administrative offices floor
of a plush hotel, an unmarried middle aged lady executive,
showing a lottery ticket, told her secretary
that she won five hundred dollars. She wasn’t happy.
Inside the cold storage of the same establishment,
a male storekeeper, a daily wage earner and father of three,
was all smiles as he showed a ticket and promised to treat
his mate to a beer. He won the same amount.
Now these two anecdotes happened within the same week.
What struck me was the stark difference in their reactions
upon winning the same amount. The executive said,
“I don’t need the five hundred, I want the one million”.
The storekeeper said “Thank God, this is heaven-sent!”
Looking back, there was only one thing I thought that minute:
It takes more for those who have more in life to be thankful,
and it only takes little for those who have less to be grateful.
Who between the two has learned the secret to being happy?
15 October 2015
Giving Thanks Contest
Sponsor: Ed Ebbs
Categories:
storekeeper, humanity, thanksgiving, wisdom,
Form: Narrative
Granny cut off our credit at the store.
You were going to school
So we thought you could do anything.
We'll write a note, we decided,
Joe can write.
We devised a long list.
Sam, who was four, said, "Don't forget to sign Bert's name."
So you did, we thought...
Off we marched wth our scribbled list.
Mrs. Lamb, the storekeeper, never let on
Adjusting her glasses, she read that list
As if it were real writing.
"Does this say three Coca Colas?
My eyes aren't too good."
Yes, we would answer, until our shopping was done.
Of course, she told Granny
Our sins always found us out!
Categories:
storekeeper, childhood,
Form: Free verse