Real Time

The world as it is, all at once

In a smoky pub,
young restless glances ricochet
across strands of cloudy air.
Children, tidy in blue and white
school uniforms, hold hands—
some skipping, others laughing.
Ever-present tarred billows
of exhaust swirl invisibly
in their wake.
Huge platters overflow
with fresh shrimp, crab, crayfish,
crisp raw vegetables,
hot steamed fish—
passing from hand to hand.
Most diners, satiated,
leave vast portions
to be poured in the bins.
"No Mommy, no Daddy, no Brother,
no Sister. Give me something—10 rupee."
The child stretches tiny hands
into the cab.
Lifeless oval eyes rise
over blistered, rat-eaten lips.
Monotonously,
he repeats the phrase
again and again.
Ruddy-cheeked, flaxen-haired,
bundled in warm snowsuits,
children ride gallantly
through a winter amusement park,
atop Shetland ponies,
through a gauntlet
of Christmas lights.
Barefoot and tattered,
racing amongst the rubbish,
children giggle and hide.
A giant cow lingers nearby,
feeding in the rancid garbage field.
I am in this world—
and yet,
I live
knowingly ignoring
the pain.

A poem by Pemba Umoja