Clinging to the twirling wheel

~~Clinging to the twirling wheel~~



Children playing --
swinging, sliding,
catching their breath -
the swing goes way up high.
Laughing, clinging to
the twirling wheel -
giggling and shouting,
"Hey Mommy, watch this."

Nowhere are shrill
sounds of mortars exploding,
the seering whistles of
launched bullets from rifles,
or bodies maimed with
lifeblood spilling upon
the ground.

Not seen in the childrens' park
are shanties - faint resemblances of homes -
boxes and boards tossed together
with near-naked children
playing in an infested stream,
wishing only for a bowl of rice.

Across the street -
children
swinging, sliding,
giggling and shouting,
"Hey Daddy, did you see me?"





'Clinging to the twirling wheel'
written in September 2009
in a city park as I took time
from reading a novel to listen
to the children.