Skip to main content

Bullying

"To be, or not to be..."
"That is the main question..."
Doing a wrong for popularity,
Is that now the most popular suggestion?

Six mighty men, musing over their weapons,
Chose, with a lofty arrogance, the scathing word,
"Oh," said the first, "It will only need slight polish,
And a most seamless throw- with an impact lourd.

"And", continued the second, "It is most benign,
It will pierce, but with not a drop of blood,
How sly and pompous, how clever,
How mightier is the pen than the sword!"

"So", smiled the third, "Its cast-iron case,
Will camouflage its lethal powers,
And then , when preparation and opportunity meet,
It will make the bravest, cower.

And the other three, well, opted for the old
'All for one, one for all' policy.
 With blind faith in their partners' design,
They knew not to what they had just resigned.

 The next task for this team, was choosing a victim,
Somebody who not only heard, but listened,
One of their peers, perhaps, and there, was the best,
And so the six were geared up and all set.

The ploy was clever, the crew were blithe,
But for every malicious there is true might,
They hadn't expected opposition here,
But sense had sounded in someone's ear.

That someone, was just like you or me,
And he or she, had probably been bullied,
Or probably not, but they deemed it wrong,
That sarcasm and negativity to should unfairly throng.

Words are hurtful, words can mine,
True, but aren't there those, too, that are truly divine?
So why not make a wise choice,
Use words that resound with grace and poise.

And of course, don't hesitate to use your voice,
Forget the charm, the relevance, the reverence,
It doesn't harm to roughly decoy the coy,
When you see a bully cross his fence.

So stand up, now that you know you are braver,
Stronger, sharper, quicker, softer,
Sensitive, nicer, more thoughtful-
Than anyone who makes you feel that you are not.

They are weak only when you push back and assert yourself,
They are demons when you enlarge their importance.
You have a weapon, use it wisely,
Use words wisely, and use them well.



    

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

What the New Year Means to Me

 What does the new year mean to me? I don't know.  I think it just means that I can give myself another chance to try, fail, succeed.   I think it means that I can spend time with family, differently this time. I think it means that I can connect with people and with myself, in new ways.  I also think that it gives me a chance to see things with a different lens. The kaleidoscope becomes a periscope. I don't know what else. Every year, I put on a new pair of goggles. Every year, I grow, whether I try, or not. Some things may work as I had expected them to, some may not. But who knows?  I will allow myself to be Novak Djokovic in my arena, who hears his name when the crowd cheers for Nadal or Federer. I will allow myself to be Rafael Nadal, who always has a plan, no matter how bleak or bright things may seem, and sticks to it. I will allow myself to be Roger Federer, who glides in, serves, plays and walks out, all in grace and style. I will allow myself to b...

Fact and Fantasy

How much is fact, and how much is fantasy? Winter mornings are dewdrops. They settle like the treble in a song, only to fade away like echoes.  I can hold them on my fingertips, but the next instant they are gone. Elusive. Just like peace. Just like people you don't really know. Come to think of it, I realize that everything in this world is transient. The barking of the dogs in the neighborhood. The incessant crying of a baby. The footsteps of the milkman. The steady, tremulous tone of someone making a point over the phone. The chatter of neighbors. Yet, only a few moments have passed before I can remind myself that transience is, after all, a tricky business. Everything appears temporary because it is warped by time and spaced into a fragment of its entirety. What appears to be a puzzle, is actually just one piece.  I am wearing the most concrete example of this irony of interconnectedness. Of permanence. Of durability. It wraps your hands and skin in the warmth of several i...

Nut and Shell

 Coconut Tender as a coconut. Hard as a coconut. Light as a coconut. Heavy as a coconut. I wish I was a coconut Today... A double-shelled, strange coconut. They call those people coconuts Whom they cannot understand, Like tapping on hard rock but not getting hurt- Like knocking against the hollow And shaking a bowl of jingling water That is cushioned by tender walls. Well, maybe people could be coconuts They could have hard shells and tender interiors, A hard crunch but a sweet essence- I would like to believe so. I want to know why I'm fascinated by the coconut. It can't be solely because of its duality. It can't be its beguiling double facedness. What is it, then? I feel like maybe a shaft of light A hollow for each hard tap- Tears through the hard door. An intriguing belt of  adventurous light Wriggles out from apparent darkness. Mystery, mystery. That's what it is. The mysterious coconut.  It has a shell But it has a soul- Shell protects soul, Soul preserves shell I...