The spectrum in my hands

Last year I was asked by an NGO to write something which indicated that there was hope for psychiatric patients. This is the poem that I wrote for them. However this poem applies to us all who are struggling with the sticks of life trying to keep the spectrum within our hands. Once and then the queen of destiny shouts "Off with her/his head" that is when we need our friends who make us realise that we can sew our head back on again and jusggle sticks even with a wobbling head

 The spectrum in my hands


I was atop a hill in wonderland, juggling sticks;
Red,blue, yellow, green. The whole spectrum in my hands.

Suddenly the queen said, 'OFF WITH HER HEAD'
And my head rolled downhill, the spectrum fell to the floor.
I ran after my head. 'Help!' I said, 'My head is aroll'

A child in the field picked up my head and looked in wonder,
He yelled in mirth, ' Look mom! A rolling head!'
'Give it to the headless one!' His mother admonished.
Sheepish he handed back my head.

I ran with one hand holding my head.
Found twigs to juggle, but couldn't keep them in the air.

As I ran, I saw some children playing.
Juggling sticks. Red, blue, yellow, green.
The whole spectrum in their hands.

I looked at the sticks then at one free hand.
'I'll get the cobbler', the littlest one said.
The cobbler came and stitched my head back on again.

The children clapped with glee and said, 'Play with us. Take our sticks'
Red, blue, yellow, green.
The whole spectrum in your hands.

I said, 'My head wobbles' and they shook their heads.
They juggled sticks with shaking heads.

'See?' The littlest one said, 'We can juggle sticks with wobbling heads.'
I laughed with glee and juggled the sticks with a wobbling head.
Red, blue, yellow, green. the whole spectrum in my hands