They look weak and shriveled
Some are bright but engulfed
With worries only temporary
And they think it’s only for today
And tomorrow they are stuck
Behind old desks; used
Reused and used
Perhaps it is fear
Perhaps it is the climate
Or maybe it is just their mind
The brain, as you may say
It is under chains
It is reluctant learning the surrounding
What literally forms the basics
Of science and arts
They should know so well
That their ancestors in antiquity
Formed these basics
And passed on the wisdom
From a generation to another
In some places, only the elite
Were lucky to share the table
They should also know
That it’s not their fault
They have to resort
To a new second language
In order to learn
They very lives they live
One has been squandered
She sleeps and is about to snore
“Take out the jacket,” I feel guilty
It is the cold I also feel
Every now and then a cough
I was there; I was right here
Quite a trail of memories
Behind me on the blackboard
‘This is the year of God’s
Blessing,’ they believe
It marks a transitional time
I say
Only one-eleven
And they will be gone
No not the year of God’s blessing
They have not said that
Instead they are wiser
They say it is fear
The fear
The fear of the Lord
Is the beginning of wisdom
I
see
©Simon21
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