Where Ever It Is Dark - An Illustrated Poem

I came across this poem one day while reading Preeti Kaur ji's blog, The World I Stitch. As I read, I saw pictures of all that our children go through in school, especially in America and I felt the need to illustrate her painfully beautiful poem. She has graciously given me permission to reproduce the poem here. The words are hers; I am to blame for the pictures. (She approves of them, though!)

I would suggest that any children experiencing such problems, go to Khalsa Kids. There is a lot of help there. Parents are welcome, too, of course!

where ever it is dark-- poem for sikh children- REVISED

where ever it is dark (revised, kid-friendly version) 12/7/07
for r. singh (especially) and children everywhere

after school
i tell my mummy
i don't want to go back
tomorrow

she asks me why

i tell her
today in the playground
bullies
push me
punch me
kick me
shout at me
potato head!
raghead!
alladin!
even osama bin laden!
everything i know
i am not

i fight back
throw a fist

imagine the bullies as monsters
call them ugly things too
my cheeks burn
my heart thumps
i am MAD

i didn't start this
i am just one
and no one listens
when i yell
stop it!
leave me alone!
no one helps me
when the bullies
rip the cloth
from my head
pull off
my patka

not even the friends
i swing with
everyday on the monkey-bars
or the kids
who swap sandwiches with me
in the cafeteria
not even the adults
who patrol the playgrounds
to make sure
everyone follows the rules

after
bloody noses
bruises
scratches
the teachers sit us down

a peace negotiation
where no one questions
the bullies

why am i a target?

inside
i am like a match
like the ones my daddy warns me not to play with
a blue flame
which grows shorter every second
burning my insides
faster than i expect

i go home
and cry
and cry

i tell my mummy
everything

my mummy
wraps her arms
around my shoulders
tells me she loves me
with her eyes

she unwraps
my joora
lets loose
my long hair
runs her fingers through

mummy whispers
your hair
is like the night sky
your hair
is the universe

she combs my kes
with a kanga
twists my hair firm
on the top of my head
a galaxy you carry high
mummy says

she takes the square patka cloth
angles it
like a diamond
sets the patka on my scalp
and ties it tight
mummy tells me
this patka
crowns you

one day
you will wear a turban
cloth as long as the seven oceans
the full span of the earth
will rest on your head

be a brave young prince
like Sahibzaada Zorawar Singh Ji
like Sahibzaada Fateh Singh Ji
when bullies
big as kings
threaten them
for carrying the universe on their heads

like true princes
when bullies
torture them
with three nights
in the cold
in the dark

when everyone wanted them to just be children
they raised their chins high

no tears
just the ways of the lion prince

with questions and conversation
a duty for the kingdom

mummy kisses my cheeks
i kiss her back

i tell her
i will go back to school tomorrow
i will be like a prince
a shooting star

bright and brave
where ever it is cold
where ever it is dark

pk

THE KILLING FIELDS OF INDIA 1984

I did not write this; I do not know who did. It came to me through IHRO from the British Sikh Federation with a message. PLEASE FORWARD. I ask you to do the same:


PLEASE FORWARD

PLEASE FORWARD -

E NEVER FORGET 1984 E

The Killing Fields Of India In 1984

In the killing fields of India in '84
We were massacred for being different
We were massacred for asking for our rights
We had our places of worship destroyed
All this in the killing fields of India.

In the killing fields of India in '84
Gandhi was killed for her crimes against us
She went to hell-but hell came to us in the shadow of the Congress
Hell came to us in the killing fields of India.

In the killing fields of India in '84
We were to be taught a lesson for being different. To be singled out and massacred.
While the world looked on-the killings went on
In the killing fields of India.

In the killing fields of India in '84
Be it in the streets of Delhi or Calcutta
Be it in the streets of Punjab
Be it in our own homes-the plan was the same
To wipe us out in the killing fields of India.

In the killing fields of India in '84
The authorities, the army, the police and officials did their utmost
In our killing-in the killing fields
Be it our sisters, be it our daughters, be it our mothers
All were shown no mercy
In the killing fields of India.

The kara and the turban were hunted down
They surrounded us, they beat us and they burnt us alive and
These devils from hell
They danced in joy around the smell of our burning flesh-
All this in the killing fields of India

We were hunted down for four days and four nights
Whilst the evil Gandhi was being cremated
We were being burnt alive, we were being raped
No mercy was shown to us in
The killing fields of India.

In the killing fields of India in '84
We were betrayed after giving so much,
to so many-in a land we thought was ours
It was our day of reckoning
It was our betrayal
In the killing fields of India.

In the killing fields of India in '84
We were shot at point blank range-
With our hands tied behind our backs
No one cared how we died
No one cared how many of us died
In the killing fields of India.

In the killing fields of India in '84
they wanted to wipe us out
We have survived many holocausts in the past
But the killing fields of India in '84
Have taught us to seek self-determination
Through the destruction of India and its killing fields
Will be born a new state
Our State

--
WHY TRY TO FIT IN? YOU WERE BORN TO STAND OUT!