Vijaya Sundaram

Poet, Musician, Teacher, and Amateur Visual Artist

Not a Saint

So, did I mention that school was over for me on Wednesday? No? Well, it was.
Two days later, I was still in there, cleaning up, clearing up, wiping surfaces. And I’ll go in on Monday, to put any remaining books in boxes and lug them home.
Only two days later –and I feel so much happier, so much more rested, so far away from the stresses of this tiny, fish-pond of a life that’s called school!
Don’t get me wrong — I LOVE to teach, and always will. But it’s exhausting work, and seemingly endless work. And one has to be a saint and never, ever let anything ruffle one’s feathers.
I am not a saint.

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Dreamer of Dreams

Home — a sort of Journal Entry

Birds sing outside, the fan’s on inside, the air is yellow-gold, and the leaves around the house glow emerald.
I love my little house, nestled on its perch high above the street.
It’s small, it’s cluttered, it’s colorful, it’s groaning with books, and it has green all around. And it’s filled with music and love.
I don’t need a big house (except, perhaps to leap around in, or throw a ball in, but for that, one can simply go outdoors). I have everything I need here.
My home gives me an illusion of permanence.
Having not had a single place I could call “home” for most of my life, I find myself feeling at peace and so contented here — this is where I’ve come home to roost for the past thirteen years.
I don’t think I’ll leave this place.

~

Dreamer of Dreams