Rain of Shame

Poetry in less than 10 mins, just for practice. It helps to sit outdoors and look for stories hidden in plain sight.


We’ve all seen that one kid
At the back-bench of the classroom,
Where no matter how loud the instructor gets,
Is always the one missing word after word,
And he is invisible, like a needle lost in a haystack,
Whose sheen may not be noticed,
But whose prick is often felt,
Whose enquiry, “Professor, I have a doubt” is ignored,
But whose sudden slip into a day-dream is noticed.
We’ve all seen it. We’ve all been there.
A question mark on the blackboard,
A question in the kid’s mind,
And laughter behind the back,
A rain of mock and shame
Followed by the teacher’s thundering rage,
As their page is replaced by the prospects of punishment.
Would it be a stick reddening the little palms?
Or standing up on the bench and holding ears
Like a zoo animal for everyone’s amusement?
Or standing out of the classroom for the world to know
That no matter the error, this child is unworthy?
Going home is not easy with such a burden on one’s shoulder,
In a backpack that could instead be carrying a dream.
Going home is not easy when it’s raining.
Mamma will notice you drenched in shame.
No first-aid can heal the scars in the soul,
And no medicine can cure the life-long feverish echoes,
“It’s not worth it, it’s not worth it, it’s not worth the trouble,
No matter what you do, you will FAIL!
There will be pain and hail, It’s not worth it”,
In a classroom, where sheen is never noticed,
But every prick is felt,
What is the point of struggling for excellence
At all?

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