One more school punishment,
One more oblivious death.
From the meads of pleasant life
A blooming bud was forever blown.
Under the blazing sun
On the open grounds
In torture was a ten year old girl
Her heart was profusely bleeding.
With bricks upon the shoulders
She was to hold the cross.
For more than two hours
The ordeal was to follow.
The passing world silently wept,
It had no answer.
Before an authorized world
Truth is often silent.
And under the unbearable cross,
The bud was finally crushed.
The punishment of the world was victor,
The ruthless hearts had at last a peaceful night!
Are we not hearing the singular cry?
Are we not listening to a whispering heart?
The dales are meant for all,
Let our axe barren not the land.
Teachers ought to be role models,
They are the sculptors of future generations.
If they are far behind in love and affection,
Where is the future nation under construction?
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The poem is based on a recent paper report.
Ravi Panamanna
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/from-the-deepest-of-my-heart/
