We’d done our waiting; twelve years of it…
we have now our wings to fly elsewhere
to someplace we’ve always dreamed to be
at a place waiting to be ours, waiting for this day.
The cage was open, and we were unchained
but we wouldn’t fly, we couldn’t fly
something was different, something had changed
our flight was subdued by the fact that we’d fly alone.
Twelve years worth of memories were too heavy to fly with,
so we filled them up in slam books and locked them away
in chests deep down where none can unlock them but ourselves,
under the oceans of joyous tears, where islands of raw ambition lay.
Our ink stained uniforms, our camouflage since origins
neck ties with logos preparing us for corporate satin nooses.
Leader badges, our medals of honour, and assembly lines
were our brigades and the prayer, our anthem.
Science fairs and sports-meets unleashed with all fury,
the Teslas and the Boses and the Bolts and the Sehwags
our chances to find who and where we wanted to be
and the trophies, our first loves, lay in beds with us for weeks.
Exams were never a reason to be worried for we got
not a fright of marks but zeal to learn and racing to finish
the tests fast so we could go play pen fights, laughing
at the ones who got caught cheating and taking a beating.
Ah, Progress cards! Those mighty main antagonists
reviving every quarter no matter how many times
we owned them… came back, taunting us with
not a sweat for failure but a tease of not being first!
But the show downs in downtown were better
than any wrestling match on television, ever!
For the fights weren’t for a prizes but for pride,
in teens pile-driving over crushes and lost matches.
Moms coming over for field trips with thus muddied shirts
rooting for the opponent’s team the ones that stole our crushes
and when they were finished, principal watching, we were friends
again, teaming up to beat up the next kid who tries to pull a trick.
As the tears rolled down, with essences with each of these memories,
we collected them, like Harry did Severus’s, for our secret pensieves…
soaking our don-to-impress outfits at farewell, calling our lies
we spelled our promises to selves with, lies swearing we won’t cry.
And never has gone a day that we didn’t miss our Hogwarts,
the potions laboratory and the game keeper’s pets or parts
of the school that were forbidden or those detentions and our
patronuses in first loves and our horcruxes for our home, our school.