GursikhA Poem by RASLEEN KAUR
Look at the saint soldier
Look at the face
The chardi kala
Turns dumps into a beautiful place.
Fighting for a cause,
Without a rest,
Without a pause,
And if you asked them why,
They would say, “For my God”,
And if you asked them how,
They would reply, “He guides me along”.
Their God tears away darkness,
And loves everything,
From the smallest to the biggest,
Gift after gift he brings.
And when someone says to that brave-faced hero,
“Penny for your thoughts?”
They trade that worthless penny,
For Waheguru’s name,
Which cannot be bought.
No fears, no foes,
No black cats or ghosts,
Doubts in a cage
That contains its mighty rage,
Sickness shot down
By an arrow of glorious sound.
Their roots are their glory,
And they work to memorize each Guru’s story,
A crown of gold upon their head,
They stay tall and proud,
Even when on their death bed.
They don’t need a wishing well,
To know that only good is what the future will tell,
Never the only flower in the field,
They always have their Khalsa family.
Beautiful shoes of dust
That only stay together if they trust,
Block nails from piercing their feet,
So they can continue the journey to Waheguru,
And sit below Waheguru on their seats.
They will never lay and rot
Under the Earth,
Instead, will disappear
In an orange blaze of truth.
They know that their loved will not join them,
On the journey to go back to where they belong,
So they detach themselves from those prizes,
And dedicate time to Waheguru’s song.
So how can I live up to such glory,
With half of the moon and half of the soil in my story,
What if I am pushed down,
And what if I stay on the ground.
I am half an eagle,
And half a tiger,
And I can be as regal,
As my faith fathers.
So I lock up my doubts in a cage,
And look forward to turning and reading the next page,
So come and read with me,
But don’t just scan,
Learn how to keep that gold crown on your head.
No matter how small,
Or big or tall you are,
You can make a ripple,
That may seem small,
But will go far.
When they say can’t,
You say can,
When they say confused,
You say I understand.
It takes many grains of sand,
To make up the world,
But be that grain,
That help makes a pearl.
Don’t just sit,
Stand and say,
Even if I’m small,
I can help pave the way.
We all leave great footprints,
So make yours last,
Change the world,
And it won’t be covered fast.
[Rasleen Kaur is 12 years old and in Grade Seven. She loves writing, playing guitar, music, and running. She lives in Cincinnati, Ohio, USA, and has been attending United Sikhs and SYANA camps for three years now.]
August 28, 2013
Conversation about this article
1: Santokh Singh (Canada), August 28, 2013, 5:38 AM.
Beautiful poem. Shared it with my family and friends ... they loved it. Wishing you all the best.
2: Tarsem Singh (Milton Keynes, United Kingdom), August 28, 2013, 11:08 AM.
Simply amazing!... coming from a 12-year-old. May Waheguru keep you in chardi kala, always.
3: Sangat Singh (Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia ), August 28, 2013, 4:24 PM.
"dhan - jan-nie jin jaa-iaa / dhan pita pardhaan / satguru sayv such paa-aa vichahu ga-i-aa guman" [GGS:32.12] -- "Blessed is the mother who gives birth, blessed and respected is the father of one who serves the True Guru and finds peace. His arrogant pride is banished from within." Indeed, "dhan si garihu jit pargati-ae" [GGS:371.2] -- "That house is blessed ..." What a lovely little gursikh! May you be the "bateeh sulakh-nee sach santat poot / aagi-aa-kaaree sugharh saroop" [GGS:371.3] -- "She is blessed with all sublime attributes." These are the Guru's blessings.
4: Gurmeet Kaur (Atlanta, Georgia, USA), August 29, 2013, 6:02 AM.
I had the privilege to meet Rasleen while volunteering at the latest Gurmat Camp in Michigan just a couple of weeks ago where she wrote this poem. When the other kids her age were busy chatting away during free time, I would see Rasleen tucked away with her books or notebook under a tree, immersed in contemplation -- observing, grasping, internalizing and expressing. Also met her wonderful mother who has raised Rasleen with utmost respect for Sikhi. What a joyful week it was to meet kids like her ... and there were quite a few. We have a good future, folks!