This month’s post is a simple poem for thought. Comments below.
From an East London Classroom;
At the back I have my elbows pressed
against the blue painted desk
a voice at the front speaks of culture,
ritual, language and faith
A white man, slim lipped
oval face, brown eyes
What does this mean to you?
The class is still in thoughts of origin
of Pakistan, India, Kenya
Look up at the man asking
how he’s relevant
Clicking mouths in wrinkled features
the aftermath of a Monsoon month
Fasting ends in EID
Kabul, Peshawar, Nairobi
Gather in the room together
Eastern festivals light
under fireworks or plain gunpowder.
Yet when all the ceremonies of Africa and Asia
A round black boy in the middle
shakes his head to a friend and asks
But here, they have no culture?