...an orphan's tragedy
These are the words of an orphan to her
caring listener. She peeks with hope for a future she might never have...
"Like a schmuck I’ve been stuck in this
musty rock for days.. No months... No, I mean to say,,, YEARS... I can barely keep
track of my age., I still think like a child yet I’m a youth.
I dunno what today is but I hope you get
this letter before Christmas.
In this dark abyss of lonely thoughts, I
don’t want to lose my inspiration, so I write with red on these sheets torn
from my worn out clothes hoping each piece will get to you before Christmas.
I wrote this piece with my blood. I got a gift
for Christmas 2 or 3years ago (don’t remember), which pricks my fingers that is
why I write.
I tear my clothes and write on them at
every inspiration I get.
I do this so I won’t have to lose that brief
moment I dear.
You can take my Christmas away from me but
please don’t take away my inspiration; my greatest companion.
I asked you to bring me candies
So I can join the kids in TRICK-OR-TREATS
But you gave me burnt brownies.
I savoured and shared every bite of the
burnt brownies this year
Because last year at Christmas, I scrubbed
the scums off a burnt pot and was forced to eat.
If you had brought me some candies today,
I’d save it for next year
Because I dunno’ when I’ll see the light
again in the month of May.
I asked for sun flower this Christmas
But you gave me thistles and thorns
“This is my gift for you for staying in my
home” - he told me
I admired and appreciated the beauty of
aesthetics
It pricked my fingers when I tried to carry
it
If you’d given me a sunflower
I’d plant it and let it flower like the
water lily
At 10 I never for once got to see again
what the sun looks like
I asked for harmattan
But you gave me a hammer-tan
Got burns for a tattoo… it hurts
Got strings of whip-scars for a body cream
whenever I cried… it hurts
Dog bite instead of lunch
I would munch roaches for dinner but NO..
these are my “whip-pets”
I crouched in pain for fear of cane… it’s
sad
All I only asked for was a gift of
harmattan from December.
I asked you to bring home Christmas
but you gave me none of these
If you'd brought me Christmas
I'd save it and cherish it for next year
Because I dunno when next Christmas will come my way
DON’T SAVE IT ALL FOR CHRISTMAS. Give a
little love every moment, everyday, coz that might just be a child’s last
moment in the slums this Christmas.


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