When I was a child,
I wished to see what they called
red, green and blue
and every other hue
soft and wild.
When I grew up a little,
I wished to see the stars spangling in the sky
and count them on my fingers
to prove nothing less
but was there any reason why
they were called countless?
And as an adolescent
I wished to look in a mirror
to look at my reflection
and know what makes me look in style
when by a muscle’s contraction
I give, what they call a smile.

And now that I have grown up
and I look through your eyes,
the world seems to be all new
And how do I feel?
How do I feel when you tell me-
Of the heart wrenching cries
of a hunger struck child in Africa;
Of the silent tears of a mother
over her son’s funeral pyre in Kashmir;
Or of the shattered pride of America
in the debris of 9-11
I thank my stars
and the Almighty above
for gifting me this prevailing darkness,
for the obtuse curtain between you and me
and for not being counted amongst one of you
as another silent spectator.