Your name is my name.
Your blood is my blood.
Even your home is my home.
But first you gobble and barely I get some.
O people – big and tall!
Do you care how I feel?
Where are my ribs and bones?
Just a flattened mass of flesh I am
dragged down from my skeleton
and drying in this parching sun.
Who ripped them all? And why?
To have bone marrow soup?
You plant creepers
and call them parasites.
O people – so strong and brave!
Put your clutches aside!
I’ll be the happiest person
to see you walk on your own.
Your bigness didn’t fit in my brain
and your tallness so sharp and thin –
overnight you grew up like a bamboo shoot,
tore the sky and pulled it down
to make a wall between you and me.
O people – so generous and kind!
I really need a little more reason and compassion.
Could you just tell me where
you’ve buried them?