I don’t remember
the man of God
give me a sign of love
or encouragement
“you can do it”
“you’ll be fine”
“don’t worry Boy, I’ll help you”
Nothing like that.
He bring us holy books
but he not read with us
on the floor in robes
in front of the class
He not play with us
on hands and knees
or we, running away
from his buried laughter
in the sunny sand dune
of childhood.
And he never joined us
for a round of games
in the playground
or ever let us tie the willing
victim to the chair
now I cannot escape
his touch
was mainly
to teach me a lesson,
he said.
Like how he teach me
to tell the time:
in minutes and hours
he move the hands, he ask me time
I answer wrong!
he hit me and hit me
again!
he move the hands, he ask me time
I answer wrong!
I don’t remember if
I passed out this time.
I don’t remember
the man of God
give me a sign of love
or encouragement
and though he teach me
much this way
but I only learn –
one thing.
67paintings 