My Africa, My Precious
K. Padmakumar *
Genocide in one corner of Africa!
A child
Who had seen his parents butchered
Before his very eyes
Grew up believing
The members of the other tribe were ogres.
An old man now.
The drop of misery slid down his leg
And was washed up in the garden
By the sea of sorrows and sufferings of life.
The old man died
And was praised for his humanity,
For bring a person
Rather than a god or an animal
Or a robot
In another corner of Africa.
A Morning-After Heartache
I am no different from others
Not even from a great soul
Or a great scientist.
I wake up
And the first thing in the morning
I urinate a long minute.
What a relief!
The morning hard-on dies away.
I need a number two
As a matter of routine.
I brush my teeth
And wash my face.
Then I am ready for shaving –
Where is my shaving cream?
I look at the image in the bathroom mirror.
What a difference!
The image does not look great.
I am not even half the man
I think I am.
There is no mirror image.
I am imagining things.
I try to think myself into a role
I have never played.
I do not see myself in the mirror
As if it were a liar.
(Translated from my late father's poem by K. Radhakumar)
* Poem written by K. Padmakumar ; submitted by K Radhakumar which was published at Hueiyen Lanpao (English Edition)
This poem was posted on December 15, 2014.
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