Sister Mother Saint



A feeble attempt I have made,

To tell the world your humble tale,

Many like me won't let you fade,

For you gave forever without fail...

🙏🙏🏼🙏🏼

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

iProtagonist

Image
It’s my story to tell,  Whisper it or yell, I saved the day, Dragons tame or slay! I walked the mile, I wore the smile, I bore the cross, I gathered the moss! Stood in the rain, As it washed my pain, Basked in the Sun, Though tans no fun! I felt every hate, I accepted my Fate, I fought very hard, But mostly off guard! Some wins and some losses, It’s flipping coin tosses, The lows and highs, Wavelengths flies! It’s an epical mythology, I’m my own theology,  Unconditional heroine, Preconditioned with a grin! A fanciful super hero, Born of a ghetto, Slashing and sassy, A wonder so classy! Thus, singing my tale, Drinking it like ale, I stand tall, Getting up at each fall! Amazing indeed to note, It’s always our quote, We are the Protagonist, As I remain the antagonist!!! (the world revolves around me attitude...) 
Read more

A moment in time… An excerpt from the 1960s...

Image
As he entered the premises of the Taba home, the six year old came running to him, shouting excitedly and cheerfully. She was overwhelmed to see him. He had traveled the whole day from Dzongchu, their village home in Kabesa, Punakha. She took him by the hand and led him up the stairs into the family kitchen where her mother stood cooking at the stove. The little girl’s excitement to see him was her love for packed lunches. He had brought packed lunch prepared by the grandmothers at Dzongchu. Her mother poured tea for them as they sat on the warm wooden floor.  She sat next to him, her elbow on his knee. She could not wait for him to open the packed lunch. He served her the rice in a bangchu (bamboo knit plates). He was cutting up the sikam (dried pork) for her into chewable bits when she grabbed a long sikam . She put one end between her teeth and tugged at it with her left hand. The already fatty sikam had been cooked specially in oil for the journey. Before he could s...
Read more

This Boy!

Image
A shoe here, A slipper there, Chucked without a care, Little feet so bare. Clothes all so torn, Back, Front, all gone, Pain is not a feel, Little knees of steel. Tears on homework, Finds joy in the park, Wishing his hide and seek, Would last him all week. Sun in his eyes, Learning to be wise, Tired he lies to sleep, Happiness found in heap! 27 th March, 2019 
Read more