Two children,
Separated by time,
And a little bit of space,
Each reflecting
On their childhood days.
One thinks,
I wish I’d had your worst of days.
Quietly crying,
Firm and defensive.
Mother too overprotective.
“My friends are free and they live more, ”
Footsteps stomp across the floor.
“What are your holding me back for? ! ”
One thinks,
I wish I’d had your worst of days.
Sleeping eyes,
but cat like senses.
Never resting self defenses.
Hears the creek of the door.
Footsteps now across the floor.
Whispers…”No, no, no, NO
Please, no …... . .
no more.”
I wish I’d had your worst of days.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Starkly different parental attitudes towards two siblings, one 'good' and one something viewed as far less. Need there be a reason? No, as in that child so tormented, no words can explain. 'Unfairness' is an extraordinarily weak term; 'injustice' isn't much better. Scars and pain say it better, but nowhere near as adequately as this straightforward and powerful (and painfully tearful) piece of verbal art. ... a tragedy, every day a damned tragedy. This is a very fine poem! ! !