Integrity: A poem by Grace Nivedita SithaRaman

I blow life,
To ease my strife.
I wish not to be the wind,
To ruffle the seas,
To tease the bees.
I wish to be the dust,
The minuscule, miniature
loose character grains of dirt,
settled on a playful child's
girth when it is in mirth.
Whoever feels a shirt spells
my worth, 
I tell them that my  soul
I carry naked since birth.
There lies my integrity
untouched. 
Really raw, sparingly designed,
It is a chutney I hide like my
grandmother's pickle jars. 
INTEGRITY served on a plate of character,
Works well, tastes better.
Stands on Life's shelf line
in good and bad weather.

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