I blink and I see it.
I blink again, it's gone.
"Come back! Please come back."
My shouts barely make it to a whisper.
It's been a week - since the vulture left.
It had first picked me in its claws,
Then dropped me off here.
I only remember the blood,
And the hunger I felt.
This wasteland is beautiful,
Too silent and too yellow.
There is a criss-cross of rusty silver,
Caging us in this yellow sand.
I miss the village sounds -
Of the boys laughing
And the vegetable market.
Now, we don't see vegetables.
There, I always complained about the boys,
I couldn't sleep because they laughed so loud.
Here some people have started building,
There are some red and yellow bricks.
I am not sure what they are trying to build.
I remember the door to our house,
The same red and the walls inside,
A pale yellow - like the sand.
Now, paint chips litter the ground
And I find lots of quiet, I can sleep.
But I miss the boys -
The boys don't laugh anymore.
I blink and I feel hot,
The other bodies. Other bodies...
They don't say anything.
Do their eyes blink in and fade out
Where are the boys?
And why won't they laugh anymore?
I won't complain if they were to laugh again.