We, the Inns

By Sahar Imteyaz

History—she  is  partial.
She  remembers  the  travellers,
The  roads  they  walked,
Their  journeys’  beginnings 
And  their  journeys’  ends.

But,  we,  the  Inns—
Are  forgotten.

You  find  us  on  every  road—
On  plain,  smooth  roads
And  dusty,  broken  roads.
Travellers  cross  their  thresholds
Assured  in  their  hearts
Of  finding  us  on  the way—
The  balm  of  vigour  for  wearied  limbs.

Yes,  we,  the  Inns,
Forgotten  as  we  are,
Are  always  there.

Sahar Imteyaz is a high school student from Bangalore, India with quite a reputation for not being taken seriously. And that’s expected — she has neither any qualifications in creative writing nor any accolades to recommend her — none of those things that really matter. She’s just an obstinate little voice that wants to be heard.