the streamers in different colors
look like leaves on trees lining the path
that i walk upon daily
i do not want any involvement now
i have so may ideas to think about
at the playground however, the cheers come out loud
for school boys playing the volleyball preparing for the Meet.
the coach with a fat belly like the volleyball twice its size
sits on a chair shouting to the little boys making the most of
what their tiny hands can do,
i remember the past, my hands too tiny to manipulate
the ball, and i feel humiliated with the strange hit
on my face.
i am involved now. On the same level, i am now
the sports spectator.
little dreams wanting to be big outright.
broken bodies, not worth it.
as early as that age when my fingers bend,
i opted for the dignity of just watching and then writing everything.
that little boy over there, his smile is so dry.
i can relate. I am like him, so afraid.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem