Discipline to the fore: A poem by Julian Sujendran
Strict adherence to ethics was the watchword of the past.
Ethics that stood, the tests of the past.
I searched for a meaning of life, but all I experienced was strife.
Yet I was passive and at all times submissive.
I was trained all my life, never to be aggressive.
Despite the limitations, I learned to be progressive.
And I grew up, I knew, that no force could shake me up.
And I grew up, I was certain, I could carry myself up.
And I grew up, at times, on the sly, for the morales expected were high.
I grew up when my parents were in slumber.
I grew up, so as not to put their dreams asunder.
I grew up, lending credence to their allegiance.
For it was a test of endurance, trained to have forbearance.
I was resigned to my lot, all my luxuries forgot.
At times, I sincerely wish that I had fought.
But my inner voice told me I had better not.
I now stand lost and forlorn, my heart pierced with a thorn.
But consoled I can say, for I was trained that way.
Ethics that stood, the tests of the past.
I searched for a meaning of life, but all I experienced was strife.
Yet I was passive and at all times submissive.
I was trained all my life, never to be aggressive.
Despite the limitations, I learned to be progressive.
And I grew up, I knew, that no force could shake me up.
And I grew up, I was certain, I could carry myself up.
And I grew up, at times, on the sly, for the morales expected were high.
I grew up when my parents were in slumber.
I grew up, so as not to put their dreams asunder.
I grew up, lending credence to their allegiance.
For it was a test of endurance, trained to have forbearance.
I was resigned to my lot, all my luxuries forgot.
At times, I sincerely wish that I had fought.
But my inner voice told me I had better not.
I now stand lost and forlorn, my heart pierced with a thorn.
But consoled I can say, for I was trained that way.
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