• Vol. 04
  • Chapter 11

I was Watching The World just like You

Why do you stand before me,
with your paper and colours?
You do not bring food, you do not bring drink,
you do not bring warmth – you come
with your curious eyes – your intent –
to capture my pain, my loss, my red threadbare blanket,
on that paper – paint the cracks on my face
so you can win a name, claim a talent
and become a wonder.

You will not pass as others before you?
You will not snap pictures accompanied with ohs and ahs?
No, you will linger like the flies on my sole, won't you,
and suck the moisture of my spirit into that piece of paper.
You will fix the memory of a broken me to a glass frame
and no matter the size of my casket, the depth of my pocket,
the strength of my song, that picture of me –
the giant sombrero shading my suspicious eyes,
the red blanket shrouding my spindly frame
and my dusty toes peeking at the world will endure.

Please do not forget my wife – her nutty brown skin –
the sheen in her hair, the beads on her neck,
the soft smile on her lips.
Please do not forget to tell them, your people in their ease, that i had no plate before me – I begged no one.
Please do not forget to paint that I too was watching the world just like you.