Often times, I try to catch myself
from falling.
Falling-
into the vicious chain
of judgements and scorn,
of whines and complaints.
But yesterday, I failed
When your phone rang.
The ring like
the cry of a child.
The class laughed,
so did I.
"It sounds like a cat,"
I am ashamed and sorry
But I did say that.
You told us later
It was your son,
who still lagged
in the race to speak.
The look in your eyes,
the strength of your will
"The ring goes away
as soon as he talks."
I hope you know
that his voice is
no different from the
whistle of the wind, the song of birds.
For he too, is a child of this earth.
The river of his words, his speech,
still finding its way.
But when it does,
it'll be fluent and bold.
Like the mighty river that
makes its way through mountains.
Like river, I pray,
his words nourish and dance,
be that hope in the drought,
that light in the dark.
I see the day
when you change your ring
Maybe to some
default Samsung tone
or the song you hum to.
As he calls out to you
in his beautiful voice.
-Zaynab
October 2021
YOU ARE READING
A Paint Bucket of Words
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