I live deep in the wood
With my limp father and a blind mother
Our house was built from braided barks
At night the lamp solely aglow
While we’re eating boiled peanut and corn
I have friends,
A lizard at the back of my house
Brown birds that sing with me on top of the tree
And a black-red snake,
I don’t know if we are friends
We just gaze at each other sometimes
Then he turned away silently
I’ve met other kids like myself
When I follow my father to sell vegetables from our garden
In the marketplace where villagers come to trade
They smile, they scream, they laugh
But they keep on silence while watching me
I don’t know why
Am i ugly or dirty?
Am i stinky?
Am i different?
They hold colourful toys in their arm
But they hold it back from me
I’m just wondering,
what they play and how they play?
How does it feel to have real friends?
As the sun reaches the center of the sky
We go back to our small house deep in the wood
Where my father and my mother live in dignity
Far from hatred or unacceptance
I like the way I live
But sometimes, I keep thinking about that colourful toys and cheerful screaming
Just a minute before I fall asleep
Then crickets sing loudly outside
Novia, 2014
Poetry Prairie 