A child’s eyes are wider (poem)

And to a child’s eyes, being wider to take

in the light of the world,

those images burned into the imagination

flashing, flickering.


On the cusp of eleven years,

how ripe for the instilling of fear and prejudice!


Adjusting to the world as one adjusts to the light

having emerged from a place of darkness,

squinting, eyelids begin to draw apart, reluctantly.


A new millennium is underway, the world takes shape.

Recollecting scenes from a hazy chronology,

the period was soon fraught with hysteria and spectacular violence.


18 months pass, embedded in memory as if the very next day,

Wide eyes are captive to scenes of violence,

a child’s impressionable imagination, tender, all is vivid.


These killings are official,

black plumes rise unrhythmically,

the reflexive composure of a nation has to be enforced

in lieu of scattered, unofficial tears.


My eyes are still wide to let in light,

but I have learned to avert my eyes.

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