Field between Childhood and Illusion

Illusions of eternity

flit by,

One at a time.

The exuberance of a child

would chase each one

Relenting only

in the presence of another

and there was always more.

It is only a child however

Who knows pain.

The aged feel it too

But the child lacks

the very words to articulate

her unfreedom

And in this mute proximity, 

to an animal

The cry is born.

A stage is reached 

when a child learns

That annoying, adolescent sense

of vindication.

That insistence 

that one was right

a petty delight.

Anger is almost better,

the repetition of confronting

authority, parental, otherwise

builds character in ways

That a school drill could never

 hope to.

The playground emerges 

As that first theatre-

A place where one learns

That apart from the family

There are voices and eyes

Welcoming faces, and apprehensive ones

Children who have not yet learned

That sometimes,

You have to chase a ball down

rather than just ask for it.

And yet, it is the place of tiny miracles

For at dusk

Before they go back

There appears the glow of perspiring smiles

Among those who were once strangers.

                                                                                                                     18th August, 2017, Rishi Valley