Monday, February 28, 2011

Alone

So alone and cold
No one to take care of me
I have no home,
but the street is my home

Each morning I rise,
and the temptation will follow me
Questions will appear
out of nowhere

Must I go to the traffic lights
and beg
Or must I take my knife
and commit a small crime?

Each night I wonder
what I'll eat in the morning
Where will I sleep?
Will I wake up?

Are the police going to find me
and arrest me?
Or will I stay the same street kid that I am
with no hope of a proper life?

-Elethu Nkala

1 comment:

  1. Beautifully written as always, Elethu. These questions explore a life that feels trapped, yet finds even the smallest liberation in the questioning of one's choices. I admire your commitment to facing reality in your writing.

    As you and I know, writers find brazen truth telling so freeing in itself, writing into the pain of life often feels like the only choice worth considering.

    You inspire me. Keep it going.

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