Anura - Poetry about anger - by April A. Severin

ANURA
Stop the abuse, Start the healing

Poetry by Gordon Gilhuly

in the warp and woof

I am about to die
I am fourteen years old
and I am dangerous for I have
spoken to my brothers
and sisters about freedom

I was broken to the wheel many
years ago when I was four years old and sold
to the village carpet maker
because my parents did not
have a twoonie for the Big Mac
Special Limited Offer
I was four years old and as
you played in your double-wide
driveway on your new Big Wheel
I was chained by the leg, fourteen
hours a day, for six years, chained
to a spinning wheel - a loom that
encircled my head like a funeral
wreath - a loom specially designed
for tiny workers with tiny
hands because children are
cheaper than machines and create
a better bottom line in this competitive
global market and Uncle Sam and
Johnny Canuck never died for my sins but
they buy my carpets at Walmart
my carpets are well made for you
cannot see my starvation twisted into
warp you will never notice the blood from
my daily beatings woven into the woof nor
will the deaths of five million of my
comrades in chains ever cause you to
say no, something is not quite right with
this carpet, there seems to be a stain that
is visible only in a certain light

and now, at fourteen years of age,
after four years of running and
hiding and telling the
truth of saving a pitiful small
few of my brothers and sisters
I kneel before a stone wall my
hands bound behind my back

my wheel has stopped
my loom is broken
I am dangerous
I am about to die

dedicated to the memory of Iqbal Masih
assassinated April 1995
age 14

Poem copyright © by Gordon Gilhuly