POINTING FINGERS

When I was but a little child

I was religiously taught by a school full of nuns,
Who strived hard to embellish our young minds

With virtues most high, without a great deal of fun

But in all those carefree days long gone by

Never a thought to morality did we ever give

Happier we were in our little secret trysts

Than in imbibing moral sciences lessons learnt at will

But as I walked along those twisted by lanes of Time,

Those long submerged values were often crystal clear,

Like the soft ray of sunlight on a still pond

They did reveal what was within me all those years

And as I now stand and see the world around me

And try and shift through what is right from wrong,

The only image that comes to mind lucid and strong

Is fingers pointing at me rather than at someone behind.

The soft litany of long ago, rings in my ears

Like a never ending record that plays a song most true

“When you point a finger at your neighbour

Remember, three fingers are pointing right back at you!”*

*Hark! Mr. Bush and Mr. Saddam!

~Glowing Embers~