1. Every new morning, I look out from this cell
And the old pictures surge back as if yesterday.
The days we hurry to school and back under the hot sun with our feet bare on hot sands
The morning mama would ask us to endure with hope and hope for a meal on return
5.The days the lining on our stomach would cry for oil while the teachers teach.
From this cell, I watch my friends and their little houses
I watch the children run to school on barefoot as if their rough earth is smoothed away.
I watch them in their stitched coats crying for a new piece.
Each morning I see faces running without oil and perhaps without oil in their stomachs.
And the old pictures surge back as if yesterday.
The days we hurry to school and back under the hot sun with our feet bare on hot sands
The morning mama would ask us to endure with hope and hope for a meal on return
5.The days the lining on our stomach would cry for oil while the teachers teach.
From this cell, I watch my friends and their little houses
I watch the children run to school on barefoot as if their rough earth is smoothed away.
I watch them in their stitched coats crying for a new piece.
Each morning I see faces running without oil and perhaps without oil in their stomachs.
10.Yet, they hold their books to their hearts; reading through the pages with hope.
I watch the mothers with the babies stacked to their backs with their wares on head
As they walk the streets hoping for a good day with a good meal for their children
They know that soon the bell would ring and the teachers would go home
They know that the children would be hoping for their after-school ration.
15. In their difficulties, they would still go home to celebrate or preach the good news of hope.
From this elevated cell, I feel how fortunate I am
I feel the privilege of sleeping and waking in cell gagged with iron bars
The price I pay for the little luxury I have labored for.
From here, I watch my friends and their little houses; some have no need for doors.
20. The freedom I have lost.
I see a tomorrow that they will eat and remain for another day
I know that some of these my little friends will one day buy some new cloths
And have the freedom of good shoes.
I see them building elevated walls gagged with iron bars
25. I see those building treasures and asking that we come together to build a better world.
I see hope.
I see a new horizon.
I watch the mothers with the babies stacked to their backs with their wares on head
As they walk the streets hoping for a good day with a good meal for their children
They know that soon the bell would ring and the teachers would go home
They know that the children would be hoping for their after-school ration.
15. In their difficulties, they would still go home to celebrate or preach the good news of hope.
From this elevated cell, I feel how fortunate I am
I feel the privilege of sleeping and waking in cell gagged with iron bars
The price I pay for the little luxury I have labored for.
From here, I watch my friends and their little houses; some have no need for doors.
20. The freedom I have lost.
I see a tomorrow that they will eat and remain for another day
I know that some of these my little friends will one day buy some new cloths
And have the freedom of good shoes.
I see them building elevated walls gagged with iron bars
25. I see those building treasures and asking that we come together to build a better world.
I see hope.
I see a new horizon.
