My father told me not to forget…
That in times of abundance, scarcity may be leaning against the pillar
In the days of love… hate could be lurking around the corner
A friend’s smiling teeth may soon turn into an enemy’s devouring fang.
In the days of pleasure he taught me not to forget…
That pain is around the merry,
For a woman’s merry heart when baby kicks, soon turns around…
Into severe pains when baby tries to draw his first breath.
In days of harvest, he reminds me,
that the abundance of rain in June soon welcomes the dryness of September,
And the heaps of oranges will soon see their last rot away.
I have learnt under the sun while I see the earth revolve around it,
That all creation have either legs to walk or wings to fly.
The houses we build, and the beds we lay on at night…
all move to meet us at the dawn of a new morning.
Nothing ever stays thesame.
One time I followed a friend to the stream,
To help him gather enough for the drought coming close
We played and laughed in ecstacy…
Until our legs slipped off our path
And our pots smashed against the rocks in the village-square
Then I realized after seeing laughter effortlessly changed to scorn,
That sacrifices easily birth true regrets.
Our hands folded into fists ready for battle,
For no one would take blame for the pieces of pots scattered across the road.
Father told me one more I should remember,
In the cold nights when hate shows its face,
And pain curls itself under the bed of my rest
Not to jump in hasty panic or travel in total abandon
For there is treasure in Scarcity, and in Pain and in hate.
The pain of a woman soon welcomes the innocence of a baby.
‘Scarcity’ teaches us to preserve abundance
A heart that ‘hates’ will appreciate ‘love’ when it arrives,
For then it’ll be free to dream, free to fly and free Indeed.