Children Are Bundles Of Fun Poem by Ali Rahimi

Children are bundles of fun,
Heaps of joy, mountains of love,
Hoards of affection, hills of kindness,
Stockpiles of tenderness and fiery affection,
Arsenals of flamboyance, vitality,
Hearts of genuine warmth,
Crux of tenderness, hub of nicety,
I like to look at the world,
Through their curious exploratory eyes,
Fresh first-hand virgin apparatus of infinity,
Innocent, and happy observers,
Incorrupt, inoffensive mirrors,
Positive, harmless, pure, untainted prisms,
Simple, spotless, sinless sceneries,
They directly say what they see,
Explicitly mean what they say,
Dramatically show what they feel,
No noxious sarcasm, no caustic biting ironies,
No insulting hints, no toxic overtones,
Devoid of all irritating resentful mysteries of our discourse,
Clean, clear of deceptive viper of our tongues,
Yes, we are glib talkers, have the gift of the gab,
Put positive and negative spins,
On all events and persona,
They call a spade a spade though,
Not polluted by deadly hatred, and fatal revenge,
No lethal judgment, no deep grudge, no character assassinations,
No smear campaigns, no racist jokes, no empty slogans,
They don’t blacken your name, they don’t stigmatize you,
Parents read bedtime stories to them,
Their childhood is not as long as they need it,
Ignored by parents, abused by states,
They are deprived of their childhood,
Millions working harshly in Congo, India, Nigeria, Kenya, Madagascar,
Under scorching sun, in poverty, yes, no fun, no fun,
Not at schools, no skills, no education, they have access to guns,
Some sold to thugs, some have to beg on streets,
O God! How can I see this and live on this cruel earth?
How can I turn a blind eye to their wounded knees? Scars? Sad eyes? Dried tears?
Kids exploited by brutal gangs?
Millions worked in colonial agricultural plantations,
Mines and domestic service industries,
Dig the ore by hand, carry sacks of ores on their naked wounded backs,
Are then purchased by companies,
Child porters, kayaye in Ghana trapped by religious servitude,
Young girls working to atone for parents’ sins,
Pastoral labour, garbage collection, mining,
Selling scrap stuff, street vending, herding and begging,
Sex tourism, in Nairobi, Kisumu, Eldoret,
Salt mining, gem and gold collection,
Petites bonnets in morocco in predicament,
Plagued involuntary servitude,
Verbal, emotional, and sexual abuse,
Withheld wages,
Street children in Casablanca, selling cigarettes, shining shoes, washing cars,
They are exchanged for money, goods,
They are weak flimsy commodities, downtrodden, god-forsaken territories,
I like to look at the world,
Through children’s’ curious exploratory eyes,
Incorrupt, inoffensive mirrors,
Children are bundles of fun …