Vijaya Sundaram

Poet, Musician, Teacher, and Amateur Visual Artist

Test

Test

(A Glimpse From My Classroom Window

While Students Take a State Math Exam)

©May 9th, 2014

By Vijaya Sundaram

 Trees, a brick wall

Fighting a grey sky.

Glass windows reflect

And reflect back

Human and non-human images,

Fleeting and busy, still and silent,

Over-layered, screen upon screen

While cars flow by,

An easy stream, swift and sure,

On a road where sound

May or may not exist.

Not in my quiet classroom, anyway –

 

Here, where heads are bent

Over official papers

Lives the Mind,

Where only the rustle of papers,

And the scratch of pencils,

And the shuffle of abstracted

Student feet reveal a Supreme Force –

Thought, turned into abstract

Abstruse, enigmatic

Symbol, a language not

Everyone masters, but which

Life and Matter know.

 

Cellular and atomic

Is their knowledge.

And the Laws were

Already written, before

My students and I

Before everyone,

And everything,

Everywhere, everywhen,

Ever were.

 

___________________________________________________________

Teacher: A Glimpse As I Passed By

Teacher: A Glimpse As I Passed By
(For Val)
©By Vijaya Sundaram
April 4, 2013

Almost in the abyss,
A young boy howls in
Soul-agony, a torment
That he cannot understand.
He sobs, beast-desolate
In the hallway, uncluttered
By others.  

I approach,
And see this:
Kindly teacher,
Clad in blue
Pats him gently,
Inexpressibly kind.

“It’ll be all right.
You’ll be fine.”
Her voice like soothing
Balm in Gilead,
Pours solace on his
Strange, wounded mind.
(For he is undeniably
Different from the others.)

Her goodness, a candle
Steady in his darkness,
Completely undoes him.
I walk by, heading elsewhere,
And try not to intrude.

He howls louder,
Lurches against her.
She hugs him with such love —
A well-spring
Of love, she is
An angel of beauty
An angel of warmth
Goodness glowing golden,
Like an energy-field
Around her.

All the comfort he needs
He finds right here,
In her enveloping frame
All the goodness nestled
In the encircling warmth
Of her motherly embrace.

And no matter what this child
Suffered today, whatever else
Torments, grips and twists
His grief-stricken heart,
He will remember this:

When he was most
Desolate and undone,
When he was most
Alone and abyssal,
There was someone.

And she leaned
Over the abyss
Plucked him up,
And brought him back
From the brink.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~The End ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

About Me

I am, first and forever, a dreamer of dreams.

In the real world, I am a teacher of eighth-graders.

I am a wife and a mother.

I am a musician, a singer-songwriter, a guitarist, a sitarist, a poet and writer, a keeper of beats, a tapper of taps on the side of objects.

I wander in dreams a lot, except that now, I have to be practical and proper, a mother and a teacher in the real world.  Leaves little time for dreaming, but I persevere, I persevere.

If I had my way, I would never wake up.  Never.  I love sleep, as one would love a lover.  I never get enough sleep.  This is a crazy world we live in.

I would love to find my way back to the stars, whence my atoms formed themselves.  I would love to curl up inside the tiny compressed state of mind known as the darkness before the Big Bang.

But enough!  Welcome to my blog.  Leave me a note letting me know who you are, if you feel so inclined.  Be gentle.

~Vijaya