When their tummies growl for prasad,
my kids sit up straight in bhajans,
clap in sync.
Their skies rain nouns
— Love! Truth! Justice! —
but my students use verbs.
Bypassing clenched fists, their
conscientious poems get published
in conscientious journals.
What bowing does not make humble—
What smiling does not make happy—
They fake now
what life makes later.
Photo by Rajyavardhan Singh on Unsplash