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Burden of a Child

Birthed with sorrow and anguish
Maturate in absence of engendered;
Ruthlessness in his heart that lingers,
Tears in his eyes gushed like morning dew.

My heart shed bloods when I see my mother cries,
Suffering from burdens induced by my father-
Construing mother’s barefoot with thorns,
Nothing to do but weeps-

I remember that day as clearly as I can see today.
Sadness and despair washed over me like sweat on a hot, humid day.
I lost all touch with reality--
My heart, mind, soul, my spirit, suddenly just gave up on life.

Despair and anguish were like an infection running through my system. Hopelessness and thoughts of being a failure were lies raging within my very soul.
Brimming over with decadent burden and sorrow-

By: Romil Ong

I wrote this poet sometime in September 2008. The poem delves into themes of sorrow, anguish, and the weight of familial struggles.

The poet paints a poignant picture of a child born into a world filled with sorrow and devoid of nurturing care. The imagery of "tears in his eyes gushed like morning dew" evokes a sense of innocence tainted by pain.

There is a palpable sense of empathy as I witnesses my mother's suffering, caused by the burdens inflicted upon her by my father. The imagery of the mother's barefoot with thorns symbolizes her enduring hardship and the helplessness of the child in alleviating her pain.

The poem vividly recalls a specific moment of despair and hopelessness, where I felt overwhelmed by sadness and the weight of circumstances. The imagery of despair and anguish as an infection running through my system conveys the pervasive nature of suffering.

Despite the darkness that permeates the poem, there is also a sense of resilience and introspection. I grapples with feelings of failure and hopelessness but ultimately confronts head-on, acknowledging the burden of sorrow I carry.

Overall, "Burden of a Child" is a powerful exploration of the complexities of familial relationships, the impact of hardship, and the resilience of the human spirit in the face of adversity.

The Legacy of Discipline

As a young child of merely five years old, I resided in my grandmother's home alongside my elder sister. From a tender age, I was immersed in a unique upbringing—a curriculum of life skills encompassing household chores, farming, culinary arts, etiquette, and even the delicate task of chicken slaughter. Every task, every nuance of right and wrong, proper conduct, and virtuous deeds, was meticulously instilled in me.

Our household, inclusive of our animal companions—dogs, cats, and chickens—operated under a regimented code of discipline. I recall vividly the precision with which my grandmother orchestrated each aspect of our daily routine; from summoning us with the ringing of a bell to ensuring every creature, great and small, adhered to its designated duties.

The resonance of that bell held sway over our lives. Its chime commanded unwavering attention, signaling a pause in all activities, human or otherwise. Disregarding its call was not an option, for disobedience bore swift and fitting consequences.

Mistakes, however minor, were met with reprimand. My grandmother's discipline was unforgiving yet fair—each transgression warranted a punishment commensurate with its severity.

Years elapsed, and with them came lessons of culinary finesse. Yet, amidst the sizzle of hot oil and the aroma of sweet and sour fish, I faltered. In a moment of panic, I reached for her face towel, mistaking it for protective gloves, only to realize my error too late. The consequence was swift and harsh—a punishment that left an indelible mark on my memory.

The memory of that incident lingers, a testament to the importance of discipline in shaping character. My grandmother's teachings instilled in me a sense of accountability—a realization that every action bears weight, every decision carries consequence.

Despite the passage of time her teachings remain etched in my heart. Though she has long since departed, her legacy lives on through the values she instilled in me. If given the chance to revisit the past, I would gratefully immerse myself once more in her guidance, cherishing the wisdom she bestowed upon me.

Yet, dwelling on the past serves no purpose. Instead, I am tasked with forging my own path, guided by the principles of discipline and responsibility instilled in me by my grandmother.

As I reflect on her teachings, I am reminded of the harmony that exists when discipline is embraced—a symphony of order and obedience, where even the animals heed the call of the bell.

Though I may never recapture the moments lost, I can honor my grandmother's memory by embodying the virtues she so diligently imparted—to accept responsibility for my actions, to strive for excellence, and to walk the path of discipline with unwavering resolve.

However, I cannot deny the weight of regret for the moments I failed to fully embrace her teachings. This regret has been a constant companion, a reminder of the missed opportunities and the paths not taken. It is a regret that has fueled many of the challenges, failures, and sacrifices I have encountered along my journey.

Yet, even in the face of adversity, I find solace in the enduring lessons of discipline and responsibility instilled in me by my grandmother. They serve as a guiding light, a beacon of hope amidst life's trials and tribulations.

As I navigate the complexities of existence, I am reminded of the importance of honoring her memory by striving to embody the virtues she so diligently imparted. Though the road may be fraught with obstacles, I press on, drawing strength from the indomitable spirit of my grandmother and the legacy of discipline she left behind.

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