Ordinary Day

 

By Simon V. Ty

San Diego, CA

The sound of the whistle is coming our way,

In the early dawn of each morning,

It was the sign for us as always,

To start the day before the birds sing.

 

The calm cool wind blew against my ears,

I grabbed my tool and marched,

Towards the wilderness,

Walking into the dark trembling with fear,

The feeling I shared with other children.

 

The sun brightened the far horizon,

Such brief beauty struck my childhood’s sight,

Displaying grace with arrogance,

Then dusk began and day pivoted to night.

 

Two bowls of rice gruel for one full day,

Eat only when they would allow,

Forcing children to work all day,

Every which way "life" was disallowed.

Volume 1 Issue 3 August/September 1996