When I was eight
The world was mine to explore
Without caution, without fear
I could be whoever
As heart chose to desire...
A student one moment, a teacher in another
Wings of my own creation,
Without any gift from nature
I dreamt with my eyes open,
I soared...
Days turned, years yawned
Eight I was, no more...
Innocence I still did nurture
‘til it fell apart
Ill-action growing in fervour
Crushing flowers, ending dreams
In a repetitive furore…
Ignoring seemed prudent
Why bother?
Not me, not my life
The eight-year-old self
is restless though
Awake from its stupor
Take a stand, so I have
For me as for the others
For eight-year-old voices
Never again to be heard…
