(On the occasion of William Shakespeare's birth and death on April 23)
A new born babe you came to us Under a Stratford roof; Was there across your tender brow A mark, a foretold proof
That your quill was already in your palm, And an infinity in your head, Eyes that saw histories before, And the worlds to come ahead?
Your grammar came not from the school nearby But from a well spring of givenness; To which you added sentient empathy Unscarred by prejudice.
You wrote the world like it was, With beauties, warts, and all; You spared not the twisted heart, Nor king, warrior, fool.
Your time came full uncannily In a mystic circular way; Your not so little life was rounded On your natal April Day.
What, nonetheless, you left behind Serves us lifetimes round; However hoards of penmen have writ, They have not covered that ground.
April 23, 2014 Badri Raina
[Shakespeare was born on April 23, 1564 and died on April 23, 1616 at the age of fiftytwo.]