My Broken Brush.... Poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi

I was his knee high,
He didn’t see me cried,
And was busy to disperse,
The paint brushes He had,

A few were tall and stout,
A few were short and thin,
A few had the sweetest voice,
A few had the prettiest face,

He looked at those people,
Gave them the brush that suited,
I was his knee high and cried,
Held His calf and slept,

Suddenly He saw me,
Sucking my thumb,
Asking Him a small brush,
He had one with nothing,

To hold and gave it to me,
With a big smile and a hug,
I took that brush and
Looked for the canvas,

I saw the ones with,
the biggest brushes,
Painted the whole world,
With one stroke,

Changing the colors,
Voices and the news,
A few played with the brush,
And showed the magic,

The hungry people,
Waited for the manna,
From the heaven,
I have no canvas,

To draw and show Him,
I have chosen the hearts,
Of people to paint with colorful,
And colorless words,

Sometimes I touched the sore,
They have shouted in pain,
sometimes I touch the happy paint,
and I see them all smile..