A little over twelve years
day after day
a school of fish is trained to fly.
The curriculum built on an eccentric’s delusion
never addresses the rift
between the sea and the sky.
The privileged pursue the slimy illusion
the humbled native has a salty reservation.
The syllabus begins with spelling ‘fins’
W-I-N-G-S
and then the disillusion begins.
Through the blurry waters and the blazing sun
the mirage crossing the sky
is the vision of a fish flying by.
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I'm not good with reading poems. Yet this one reminded of the education we went through.
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