Saturday, February 26, 2011



We have been asked for an early memory.


My first memory is of cold hands.
I am a tiny child
Lying in bed
In a cold, cold room.
Nearly eighty years ago.
My hands,
Tiny petrified starfish,
Lie on top of the blankets.
I cannot sleep
For the discomfort of them.
I place them,
One after the other,
Under the covers.
I remember the thought.
This is how to keep warm!'
I recall the newness of the thought.
I recall the triumph
Of doing something for myself.
I recall the bliss
Of the warmth of my own body.
Such a tiny memory!
So insignificant!
Yet I believe
This was the precise moment
I became a person.


Newton Rajah


What a way they have with colour! Our friends of the Indian race!
It's as though they take a paint-pot and splash it about the place!
We see it in documentaries which delight us on TV,
And friends who've been there all declare it's the same in reality.
I here present my good friend Kat, (we meet in cyberspace)
And you'll see there's a solemn expression on everybody's face.
Kat and his wife have just built a house and here it is being blessed.
He sent photos of the ceremony and I was quite impressed!
But look at Kat's wife's sari! The colours simply glow!
She bought it for the occasion! It's better than a show!
And though Kat's wearing snowy white the silk picks up the hues;
And we can see oranges and pinks, yellows and golds and blues.
The house is not yet finished, hence it's dull and grey,
But soon it will glow with colour in a truly Indian way.


patcegan said...

How delightful your poem...starfish hands. :-) How wonderful to remember the day that you realized yourself as an individual. I have come to really treasure sweet memories and am grateful to have had a life full of moments worth remembering. Nice to meet you! hugs, pat

Kellie said...

Wow! That is a wonderful write! Exactly what I was looking for! Thank u.

Anonymous said...

What a delightful and triumphant first memory of awareness as a "person". I love this from the start to the end. Thank you for sharing. It is an honor to visit! ~becca~

EG CameraGirl said...

I can relate to the cold hands...but as an adult. :)

One of my favourite stories about my daughter is about when she was about two years old. She came up to me and declared "I'm a person." I was astounded! She has always been very verbal...and still is.