The Poetry Marathon

No. 5 – My two girls

By Nandhini G. Natarajan

I expected my girls to be loving sisters,

when I am gone.

Now, one will have to be a mother,

to the other one.

One is a mother of three beautiful children.

One will only be an aunt,

but that’s okay.

One took her education to the limit.

The other still pushes her boundaries

as much as she can.

My dreams for one are fulfilled.

My dreams for another took a different turn –

but is still full.

God answered my prayers,

gave two beautiful babies,

with two different normals.

And I am comfortable in both.

My body sometimes bursts

with the love

I have for them.

No. 4 – The concert

By Nandhini G. Natarajan

Piya’s teacher could

not take it anymore.

I was upon her,

like Chinese torture,

drip, drip, drip.

So what if Piya couldn’t speak

couldn’t sing,

couldn’t play?

She could do something.

She was given

a triangle,

for one tinkle

at the end of the song.

Ecstatic,

I brought the camera

and a video

to capture Piya’s debut.

I stood squarely

in the aisle,

not a movement would I miss.

Piya came on stage

with the triangle.

Tears gushed into my eyes.

The tinkle was heard

but not seen.

By the time,

my eyes were clear,

the moment had passed

with nary a picture to show.

No. 3 – Ties

They were in the

silent phase,

for the last month,

the brother and sister,

after the fight.

Neither remembered

the cause, just the words.

Sister was older

and keeper of rules.

She decided when

to talk again.

Brother waited in

sullen, angry,

silence.

Sister got a letter,

an admission to college,

800 miles away.

She’d be gone

in two days.

Something cracked inside

brother.

He rode his cycle

for one hour.

100-degree heat,

on a summer Madras day.

Moore Market sold

second-hand books

all he could afford.

Pouring with sweat and breathless,

muttered for the train

and gave to sister.

She looked at the tattered book

her favorite author,

and muttered in turn.

Teenage siblings

do not hug.

On the 24-hour

train ride,

she cried each time,

she opened the book.

No.2 – Inching into Class – a strategy

By Nandhini G. Natarajan

No one frightened me

as my first standard teacher,

a nun.

Short and rotund,

with a cane

taller than she.

She never hit us but,

when mad, she’d strike the ground.

She’d fly off the floor

with each strike.

While we watched,

with amazed terror.

She hated latecomers.

I was always late.

My grandfather never hurried

ignored my frantic pleas.

He and my teacher

were old friends.

Still I was punished.

To stand by the door for

the whole period.

My shame witnessed

by everyone.

But I had a strategy,

a secret one.

Every now and then

When the teacher

wasn’t watching,

I would shuffle my feet

a few inches into

the room.

By the time the bell rang,

I was sitting

at my seat

like I was always there.

The teacher never noticed.

Or so I thought.

My parents born in one country,

moved to another,

for freedom.

I grew up between two cultures.

In time I moved to

yet another, third country,

following my husband, starting a family.

I should have felt misplaced, astray,

adrift.

But a cord tethered,

pulled me back.

It was a ritual, a sacred one.

A Mass.

The same words, sights and smells

even in different languages,

told me I was the same.

Oh how exquisite, the feeling of belonging!

I took for granted, the Sunday mass,

Until one day,

we could not touch another,

even in gestures of peace.

The holy water font was emptied.

We might get infected,

by the deadly virus,

from hell.

The church emptied, how shocked I was!

And the communion put away.

Was it possible after

two thousand years?

That first Sunday, I did feel adrift,

bereft.

A lone priest came,

disinfected his hands.

Gave communion

to the few hanging around.

I have never received it,

With such gratitude,

with tears in my eyes and a prayer on my lips.

The last I received for many, many months.

Hello fellow Marathoners,

This is my first poetry marathon and I am doing the 12 in 12. I live in Rockville, MD so will be in the same time zone as Cailin and Jacob Jans.

I am relatively new at writing and took courses/workshops run by Authors Publish which has been a great help in discovering the unknown world of writing and publishing. I just had my first short story and first poetry published earlier this month. So June has been a great literary month for me! Looking forward to reading all the poetry that this marathon will produce.

Good luck!

Nandhini