by Hasini Peyyala
In the garden of knowledge
I was a gardener
Thinking I knew everything,
But having tasted nothing at all.
All I knew was my own life,
My routine, and my flaws.
When I first heard of war on Eastern shores,
I was lost,
Having ventured far from home
When I scrambled back, it was all the same
Monotonous tending to the plants,
Wishing nothing would change
Living in my little paradise trance
But flashes of the past came in threes
The living and the joyous
Then the deceased
The light shuttered
The light tricks I see
The flowers sprout a dozen times
They will sprout a dozen more
But those ones my gaze will never fall upon
For I’ll be long gone from the fish bowl
The world is old and I am new
The world is bold and so have I too,
Possessed the attitude
To grab the vine and bite the fruit
Hasini is a current junior in high school. She is an avid reader. She enjoys writing and playingh board ghames in her free time.