The Dirts I Packed
The dirts I packed
With bare hands
Thoughtless; a result
Of childishness
A result of hearing
Deeds of the elders
But only to see
If they were realistic
The worms I shoved
Into my mouth
Even after a wash
Of cleansing
Like everything else
I could do, when alone
This too, was easy
And I was exceptional
But after all, my hands
Ache, from skin to bones
Like they are carrying
Scars of a lost war
Author: Akaayar Aondongu Andrew
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