It was 1999 and I was still waiting for the train to arrive
at the crossing, watching unruly kids play with deflated bicycle tyres
spokes, rims and adulthood
It was 2000 and I found myself drinking lemonade
near a dilapidated school building
talking to children in tattered uniforms and women
baking bricks at the kiln
bricks with an unknown name imprinted upon them
burnt in the red blue furnace along with
men, women and children in school uniforms
It was 2001 and I found myself in the rain
under a tin shed with dung cakes and handprints
on the walls, and within them,
the screams of the forgotten children
A scorpion crawls up my leg
carries the weight of knowledge on its back
stings an ungrateful poet.
