Something to think about . . .

For my poetry class I have write about 3 different experiences that I have during the trip. For one of them I wrote a poem about the children in the Townships that I visited. I thought I'd share. It is hard to describe these children, but I think this poem is closer than my previous description.

 

 

To Those who Need a Place to Play

 

For one day I was a human jungle gym.

Children running, they all wanted in

on the fun. Tiny mud splattered hands

grasping me instead of snatching Rands

and cries of happiness instead of

the typical pain. Turn into a dove

and fly away to the top of the tall,

white, unbalanced human seesaw.

Innocence regained with the pumping.

One, two, three, and the thumping

loops them over the top of the swings.

For once they feel like Kings.

Much can be learned from these small

unwavering hands, unable to fall

from the human jungle gym. Release,

get down, away from the playground, but please

take a monkey bar or two. 

Names already etched into the white metal

The human jungle gym can never forget you.