The Light

I wrote this last year in response to a prompt.

When I was a child, my family and I lived in a squatter colony where there was no electricity or running water. This prompt brings me back to those times, and to write about something we all take for granted, the electric light. Or rather, the absence of it..

I am posting this for Thursday Poets Rally Week 55.




photo by singhajaykr25 
image from morguefile.com



the light



you know,
the light from the single
pressure lamp in our hut
keeps the night at bay
keeps the barking dogs outside
the night

there is no tv, no radio
to distract my school work
except the light will dim
after a while
and dad will pump the lamp every hour
or so

to keep the kerosene flowing
feeding the flames,
and mum joins me at
the only table
mending a dress with what squares of fabric
she has

while dad reads the day's papers
crumpled and smudged
from passing through
many hands
while outside in the village the dogs
still bark.



written 09/02/10
revised 09/09/10
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Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

-- Dylan Thomas

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2011