How simple life is
As your gaze through the double glazing
Of your middle-class bungalow.
You have never felt the thirst,
Or true hunger that gnaws at your belly,
You have never been so low and tired
That death seems like an easy option.
And neither have I.
We are the privileged ones,
The lucky few -
Born in this century,
In this country, with skin of this colour.
Age does not bring wisdom
If you grow old with your ears and eyes
Tight shut.
We, the young,
Are rising up.