Ink Poem by panicker p.k.n.

<As she phoned
inviting to view her writings
on the ‘wall’
my mind raced back in time.

In that cave dwelling
fingers soaked
in the purple blue juice
of some crushed berries
rubbed against the rocky wall
left impressions, a process initiated.

A process
the berries giving way to pigments
to graphite and carbon,
the purple blue to black,
red, blue, myriad of hues
that suit the occasion and mood
add colour and majesty
to every written and printed word,
the wall to papyrus, palm leaves and paper.

A process
that shaped the history
of generation after generation
for over forty centuries,
helped evolve human civilization,
established the power
of written and printed words
and of documents, inked.

Today, my grand children
writing their thoughts on the wall
with no ink, pen and paper
tempts me to write
an elegy for the good old ink.
/>