Seashells
Thoughts on discrimination of color and nacre (nature?)
We are but seashells in the sands of time,
laying by chance on the destiny’s floor.
It may not be for us to reason or rhyme,
the water that imbued its salt and spore.
Which water is saltier and which pearl bolder
we endlessly measure and poll.
The bickering from difference never gets older,
all this for just a dice’s roll.
A clam — its shell slammed shut and clasped,
until a spore comes knocking at its door.
Coaxes its closed heart to open at last,
and imprints with its own ways, salt and lore.
The variance in water, salt and grain,
is to celebrate, discover and recognize.
But for some, the difference in color and stain,
awakens a bent to disdain and criticize.
Their clouded minds are fixated on clarity in vain,
how they tarnish nature’s manifold tries!
Next time a sea shell gets washed up your way,
carried by exotic currents from oceans away.
Embrace the difference with deference, let the nacre in its heart,
enchant us with its iridescence, as it splits the light apart.
© Shishir Ayalasomayajula
