What do I know of sorrow?
The feeling of a woman in prolonged obstructed labour?
The burning hurt of mother over prodigal son?
Or the torture of always hoping yet no results?
After all I was still in the womb 1 month ago,
Being prepared for a life of writing.
What do I know of joy?
The relief of a constipated man opening his bowels finally?
The bliss enjoyed by the unconcerned/ignorant/aloof?
Or the euphoria associated with heaven?
After all I only smiled at birth yesterday,
Looking forward to learning writing.
What do I know of goodness?
The little boy helping a little old man across the street?
The sick mother who still prepared breakfast for all?
Or the constant unrequited love of the Maker for men?
When my diapers were bought just yesterday,
And I picked up the pen today.
What do I know of cruelty?
A dog owner who kicks aside a cat on the street?
A boss who bullies employees at work?
A spiritual leader who deliberately deceives the followers?
After all I sucked my first breast milk yesterday,
And wrote my first piece today.