By Aayushree Attarde
Ma, don't take my books away,
I find my joy in faraway places.
I enjoy the tales of deception, murder, haunted houses,
Family legends of the crooked neighbour,
And of the girl whose ghungroos they took away.
Of the divergent who fought against all odds,
Of the girl who tried to run away.
The book of the boy who tried to be the toughest fifteen year old calmed my rage and filled every fibre of my heart with empathy.
The nobody who became the prom queen of high school rivalries and
bittersweet love stories.
I found my comfort there, my home there.
The tranquility it gave me couldn't be found in the tranquilest of the gardens,
We learnt to listen to the wind,
To dance to its tunes.
To have the iota of freedom this world never gave us.
We fought demons and vampires,
We flew over lakes as deep as the Pacific Ocean,
We howled into the night,
We carved our runes with the steel in our hands,
Cast spells to ward off evil in distant lands.
Here our words are stolen, our hearts are broken,
There, time ceases to exist.
Somewhere beyond,
Whether it's the road not taken or the words never spoken,
Or our moments, they made their own,
It's the books that bring me back,
And yet make us crave another escape.
So we take our cloaks, our swords and spells,
We go into our realms,
We reign, we fight, we laugh, we cry,
Hence, Ma for all this,
don't take my books away.