The Power Pain I Poem By Kreeti, 15, Guwahati

The Power Pain

I remember the bean bag’s swing,

Each punch returned with fiercer sting,

As a child, it fueled my fiery track,

But now, it whispers life’s wise knack.

We stand with heads held skyward high,

Lost in the illusion of touching the sky,

Far from the ground, we feel so tall,

Yet when struck, it’s not to fall.

For in that strike, lies hidden might,

A spark to set our souls alight,

Unleashing power we never knew,

Fueled by hurt, but born anew.

India struck back, as did Walt disney,

And every soul that faced assault,

Negativity’s thrust wasn’t to bind,

But to forge strength of a different kind.

For in the wounds, our power grows,

Without the pain, we’d never know,

The force within, the will to rise,

Striking back with fire in our eyes

by Kreeti Dhanuka, 15

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