She tiptoed-
sneaked into this house, that house,
smelling faint aromas, hunger gnawing at her bones.
Wearing that same frock maybe
since Babylon’s towers first touched the clouds?
Could she be the one?
No. God has His favorites.
On a sunny day,
when cotton candies seemed extra pink,
amidst the amusement park laughs,
she sank,
clutching her cold pocket
among the crowd’s ring.
sugarcane on vans
looked like invisible grips on sticks,
coming toward her,
leaving scars like red hibiscus-
she imagined.
Reason?
Wanting to inhale
the same air as the rich,
responding to the yearns of her dying body alone.
Was it too much to ask for?
One day
dreaming of food—a hit, just like
tsunami waves crashing on the bank.
what on earth was she fighting for?
Maybe one or two loaves of bread.
Was it too much to ask for?
She looked up into the sky.
Mother must be fire with fury on high
she murmured,
“mama, dey don come.. dey no wipe my teers.”
One, two, three drops—
the whole rain on the ground.
Every coffee-scented Sunday
car doors opened,
kids got goodbye kisses for school.
But she-
she was thrown away like a forgotten nuke.
A little bit of attention-
Was it too much to ask for?
No one ever held her in arms
except shopping mall stairs.
Neither did the only puppy she had,
soft brown fur, tail wagging like broken hope,
until he was gone.
A warm hug? Where? What for?
Was it too much to ask for?
Stormy nights didn’t bother her—
nor the thrashing tires of trucks rushing by.
She feared only the animals
who are “human,” as known.
Her brunette hair, rough,
reminded her how rough it felt
to have one full meal once.
No one to touch her wet marshmallow cheeks
and sigh along with her one ounce.
Just to find daily bread,
emptiness flooded her tiny head.
A hope for golden sun rays
running through the mini hole
could she someday gear up like a doll?
She wanted gravity
to stop pulling her tears.
Wanted nightingales
to sing death
for those whom she feared.
Forever locked—her fate’s door.
Where would she even find a shore?
Was it too much to ask for?
She loved rain like a poet loves sorrow.
Even on the verge of
getting washed away like a used tissue thrown,
she thought,
got puzzled by her life’s curve:
why didn\'t she deserve
a warm couch just to sit by the window,
wherever her silly mind may follow?
“Could I shine like a dazzling moon?”
Little did she know
her dreams would shatter like olive leaves too soon.
One day,
sparrows didn’t compete to sing better.
Flowers’ honey tasted plain.
Only the cars blew air on and on,
city lights blinked like luciferin.
A screech. A hollow thud.
Who’s that little piece of flesh?
Had she been held
like a kangaroo child
with toys and candies on top
would she still yearn for
the finger Momma once kept between her fist
when she was newborn?
No one could wait, fearing the scolding of bosses at the office desk.
Only the birds knew.
The rough-stoned roads hewed.
busy “humans” smirk,
dodging the mourning-air
like finding directions in the dark.
She left
playing invisible violin tunes,
haunting the nestlings,
waving hands to the dark
leaving the clouds to whisper;
What’s too much to ask for?