Mutterings of a Galamseyer

They said gold would change everything. That shiny dust beneath the earth Could build homes, Buy new clothes, new phones, Forge new lives. They said school is slow. Hard work is for fools. Rich men dig gold — so why not us? And I believed them. Now every morning, I wake to the roar of changfang motors, The choking fumes of generators, The sound of hammers striking stones, The hoarse coughing of my cousins My classroom is a pit. My pencil is a pickaxe. I write my future— In the belly of the earth. My soul is consumed by gold. I see the river — Brown with poison, bitter as truth. Once, I drank from it. Now, it kills everything Even the frogs have fled And their song is silenced. All around, I see only empty fields — No millet, no cassava, no cowpea No grass for a rat to hide, No shade for a bird to nest, Only craters where food once grew And stumps, scotched by greed. ...